A Long Night
by markgeeter
Summary: The Kingpin has business in Gotham and Daredevil wants to know what that is.
1. Chapter 1

A LONG NIGHT

In a consistent barrage, rain fell like tiny bullets on Gotham. The forecast over the metropolis calling for woeful weather throughout the night. Stepping out of his armor-plated limo, Wilson Fisk shielded himself from the onslaught with a newspaper held above his head. The four-hundred-plus pound man deftly navigating the curb and sidewalk outside of Cicero's, a Greek restaurant located Uptown, in Gotham's Diamond District. Known for its world-famous cuisine, the establishment was owned by David "The Greek" Falcone, the grandson of the infamous crime-lord, Carmine "The Roman" Falcone. Believed by the GCPD and other law enforcement agencies to be a front for the mob family's comeback; the seemingly legit business was a bid to reclaim a foothold in the city of Gotham once more.

"At least he's got good taste," Fisk said gesturing to his assistant dressed in a gray pinstriped suit, handing the much smaller man his wet newspaper. "Mr. Sweet; when we get inside, contact my associate and reiterate the need for discretion concerning the delivery of my goods."

"Yes sir," the thin man said, covering Fisk with an umbrella.

Moving into the building, surrounded by several bodyguards wearing dark business suits, Fisk was greeted by the matre d'hotel. The well-dressed head attendant quickly ushering him inside, escorting the large man to a room behind a black velvet screen away from the other patrons. Entering the restaurant only minutes later, accompanied by an attractive brunette, Matthew Murdock adjusted his twice tinted shades on his face.

"Reservations for two," he said leaning in, offering the waiter two hundred-dollars. "An 8:00 seating under the name Murdock; Matthew Murdock."

Running a finger over his log, "Yes, I have it here sir," the waiter said. "If you would please follow me, I'll escort you to your table."

"Please, lead the way," Matt smiled, the handsomely disheveled man taking his date by the arm as he released his walking stick.

Guided through the room slowly, Matt began to filter out all the smells and sounds assaulting him. Blind for all intents and purposes, he was unable to see the varied details of ocular form, shades and colors. The ability to see afforded the eyes of, "normal people", lost to him forever. His sight, taken as a boy in a strange accident, was replaced by something entirely different; something that made him the man he'd become; a man few suspected truly existed, but feared nonetheless.

Adjusting to the noise of the forty plus patrons seated in the room and some beyond the building itself; their various conversations ranging from sex, politics, finance etc.; he took his seat in the middle of the establishment. Weeding through the discussions of the staff he focused on those concerning the large man who seemingly entered and disappeared into the back of the restaurant.

"I can't believe we got in on such short notice," Patricia Reed said glancing around the restaurant.

"They always reserve a table or two for special guest who show up at the last minute," Matt whispered. "Grease the right palms and you tend to find yourself on that list."

Placing a hand atop his, "I have to admit, I'm a little surprised you called me," Patricia said playfully. "After moving to Gotham, I didn't think we'd ever see each other again. Not that I'm complaining mind you…it's nice to see you."

"I'd say the same, but I'd really be lying," Matt joked, smiling.

Laughing, "That's what I mean; we always worked well together Matthew; and I'm not just talking in the courtroom."

Listening to the kitchen staff discussing Fisk, "You're making me blush," Matt replied. The large man apparently asking for the head chef's moussaka recipe. "After flying in from New York, I'd be insane not to at least look you up. I mean, who else would know the best places to hang out and truly laugh at all my jokes?"

"And not to mention...you won't need to rent a hotel room while you're in town."

"When I arranged to be in Gotham for a day or two, I hadn't thought of that," Matt said attempting to order a bottle of wine. "I never figured to end up in Gotham; sitting across from you. Not that I'm complaining mind you. It's just the case I've been working on for more than a year has suddenly born fruit, so to speak."

Turning, feeling the anxiety level of his waiter rise as the young man drew closer; Matt refocused his attention on the commotion outside. The young man's heart rate and body temperature increasing as he stopped taking their order. On the street, the engine of a Maserati, Quattroporte-GTS could be heard as the driver-side door opened. The 250,000-dollar car, with a 523 horse-powered engine purring almost silently as onlookers gawked and raved over the person driving it.

"Excuse me please, I will return shortly," the waiter said departing.

"What's going on?"

"I don't have the slightest idea," Patricia said excitedly. "The head attendant just gestured for our waiter to come to the front. I think the whole staff is coming out of the kitchen. Wow, do you think it's someone famous; maybe a movie star or singer? They're known to drop by this place; that's why it's so hard to get in. The restaurant is quickly becoming somewhat of a local attraction."

Hearing the hushed whispers of those around him and the beating of Patricia's heart, made Matt smile. The shift in the atmosphere almost palpable due to the arrival of the Hollywood starlet. Beautiful and talented, the actress slash singer, Vickie Vaile, could be heard handing her keys to a valet. Tinsel town's new, 'It Girl', she was at the top of her game if you believed every internet chatroom, blog and magazine. The entertainment outlets acknowledging the blond movie star to be one of the highest paid actresses of the year. The word on the street suggesting she'd be making a film in Gotham soon; her presence causing everyone outside to lose it. Moving passed the staff that greeted her at the door, she was speaking to her equally famous date.

"Thanks for letting me drive Bruce," Matt heard her whisper. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time. My agent would kill me if he knew how fast we were going."

"The night's still young," the multibillionaire whispered back, tipping the valet, causing the man's pulse to speed up.

Passing his table as they were led to a private section of the restaurant toward the back, Matt could smell the scent of money saturating Bruce Wayne. The Wayne Enterprise chairman's Rolex, that would cost most men two years' salary; justifying the virgin wool, Giorgio Armani suit and calfskin, Salvatore Ferragamo shoes he wore. His cologne, a scent unfamiliar to Matt, was apparently made exclusively for him. Truly, the man did smell like money, Matt thought; giving a name to the fragrance. Growing up in New York, the thought of excess was having a second serving of whatever you were lucky enough to be eating that day. The idea of acquiring wealth, as it was displayed throughout the room, was often reserved for businessmen, politicians, and criminals; which more times than not, were one and the same. Exiting the back room, David Falcone followed by Wilson Fisk and his assistant, made their way over to Wayne's table. Standing, shaking Falcone's hand followed by Fisk, Wayne introduced them to his date.

"Do forgive the interruption Bruce; I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet Miss. Vaile in person," Fisk said, kissing Vaile's hand. "It's a pleasure, I've been a fan of yours for some time now. Your role in, 'The Unseen,' was magnificent."

"Thank you, I did so enjoy playing, Joan of Arc."

"What brings you to Gotham, Wilson," Wayne asked taking his seat. "Looking to invest in the city's renewal? Your development firm has done wonders in Midtown Manhattan, I've taken notice of the changes personally. The gentrification of Hell's Kitchen is an admirable and lofty goal; impressive to say the least."

"Thank you, Bruce; but no, I'm no Lex Luthor. New York is the only sandbox I wish to play in. I'm merely here to see the sights, no business I assure you."

"Sir, the opera," Fisk assistant interrupted checking his itinerary.

Eyeing the little man, "Thank you Mr. Sweet," Fisk said. "Now if you would excuse me Bruce, I'll let you return to your exquisite date," he finished, kissing Vaile's hand once more before departing.

The rain had become a light shower over the course of the night. Discussing their past relationships and present endeavors, Matt and Patricia enjoyed an intimate meal over wine. Taking Patricia back to her apartment and engaging in sex, Matt made sure she would be asleep for several hours. Slipping out of bed, dressing quietly, he donned the crimson costume of his alter self hidden in an overnight duffle bag. The horned image of the Daredevil reflected in the sliding panel doors leading to Patricia's balcony. Hovering over the city as he stepped outside, adjusting to a cacophony of sounds, he leapt into Gotham.

**GOTHAM**: Daredevil

Rushing passed him, wind filled the Daredevil's ears as he fell; the thermo-ballistic suppression bodysuit helping to warm him against the cold and rain. The dark red kevlar mesh costume, making him all but a living shadow as he raced toward the street below in a blur. Twisting midair, as rain struck the world and sound painted a mental landscape of soundwaves, "The Man Without Fear", allowed his body to relax. Drawing his baton from its holster on his side, he fired a titanium cable from the short white rod. The thin wire attaching itself to the head of a gargoyle posted atop the outer ledge of an adjacent building halting his descent. Swinging high above the lights of the Gotham skyline, he once more hurled himself into the night.

Like a human tuning fork, Daredevil's mind focused beyond sound, touch, taste and smell, as he gave into what he called, 'the sight'. The addictive interweaving of his remaining four senses that instantly created a fifth. A strange amalgamation that utilized both his heightened awareness and mutation. The world quickly becoming mental shadows pulsating around him with sonic bursts of spectral energy. The crimson hero likening the effect to an x-ray he'd once seen as a boy before losing his vision. Within his world, the depth and density of every object in the range of his hearing was processed and laid out in his mind's eye in shades of resonating grays. Their subtleties and minuscule diversities vibrating in waves of sound, smell and heat.

Falling, landing on a roof as he adjusted and realigned his senses, Daredevil sifted through radio waves produced by countless cell phones, cars and antennas. Their distinct electromagnetic patterns filling the air like threads of endless webbing intersecting throughout the city below and above him.

Show yourself, Matt thought, blocking out all distractions as he amplified his abilities. The opera ended three hours ago, factoring in traffic, that only gives you an hour head start.

Like fingerprints, each signal produced by any electronic or biological source was unique. Tuning into those frequencies using his sixth sense, Daredevil became a human antenna. Processing and pinpointing waves of electromagnetic radiation traveling around and through him; meticulously searching for the cell phone now in use over three blocks away.

Gotcha, Matt thought racing for the edge of the building; leaping air units and piping as he dove out over the city once more.

Swinging from buildings high above the congestion and noise flooding the streets below, Daredevil ran along the outer ledges of smaller structures guiding him toward the Sheal Docklands. The Gotham City harbor and pier south of the South Channel Island, Midtown on the city's west-side. The undeveloped sector of the city cloaked in a strange silence and smell that alluded to death. Tracking the large vehicle moving through Red Hook, he sought to get ahead of it.

"No Sir, all went according to plan," he heard the voice of Mr. Sweet report; the cargo van coming to a halt two blocks away. "He was informed of our arrival some time ago, but I doubt his services will be...as you say sir. The Galahad will dock on schedule according to your contacts, and he'll be aboard. They don't foresee any complications on that end. Maybe the so-called protector of Gotham has taken the night...no sir, only what I've read or saw on the local news. Quite frankly, I've always considered the man more of an urban legend. After all, no reputable source in New York has confirmed his existence outside of Goth…yes, I'm aware we're in Gotham sir. Very well, I'll contact you once all transactions are final."

Moving deeper into midtown, Daredevil took note of the gothic architecture making up what some called, Old Gotham. The older abandon buildings and cluttered landscape saturated with a scent of overwhelming fear.

This city is starting to smell like the Kitchen, Matt thought, mentally sensing the van passing below him. I guess they always do; no matter where you go in the world.

Navigating the shorter structures of the historic district, bringing him ever closer to his prey, Daredevil halted momentarily. Putting distance between him and the van once more, he could sense movement on the peripheral of his awareness. The figure or figures advancing only close enough to alert him to their presence. Their scent and movements indicating they were above him; their precise location was lost in the muddled pulse of the city causing him to reach out using his mutation. The targets masked by wild shifting winds and surrounding noise at such a distance making him feel uneasy. Yet, the thought of someone or thing tracking him, made The Devil smile.

**BATMAN**

"Are you sure it's not him sir," Bruce Wayne heard Alfred exclaim through the headset of his cowl. Batman's iconic cape draping his shoulders concealing his true form as he peered through a pair of bat shaped binoculars.

"He's not the Flash," Batman said examining the man posted above West Sixteen Street, near Ross. "If he were; he'd know better than to enter my city without an invitation."

"Yes, but maybe he's just passing through sir."

"Perhaps…in the meantime, pull up everything you can find on him. Check all national news feeds, databases and archives for the past two years; also run his costume through the FBI's metahuman registry. I need to know why Gotham has become so popular as of late."

**SHEAL DOCKLANDS**: Daredevil

"We've swept the perimeter and my team is in position," a large muscular man dressed in plated combat fatigues stated.

Perched above the Gotham City waterfront overlooking Sheal Docklands, "Very good, but unlike the boss, I don't think they'll be any need for them," Daredevil heard Mr. Sweet reply. "Once I secure the package have your men follow me to Gotham airport. The boss wants his gift transported back to New York as soon as possible. As discussed, you'll stay behind and conclude all business with his associate."

Listening to the two men as they talked on the pier, Daredevil could smell gun oil, refuge, iron, sweat and rust. The various scents mingling with the smell of the Gotham River and city. The sound of drizzle pinging off the wooden dock and metal rooftops filling the world. Every drop resonating with smells and taste to paint countless mental images in cascading bursts of light around him. The nine heavily armed men hidden atop several structures in groups of three flashing like neon signs in his mind's eye. Their long-range weapons placed within arms reach as they smoked, ate, talked or patrolled the areas assigned them.

On the water, with the slapping of waves against steel, he could hear the engines of a cargo ship moving up river. The large containership heard slicing through the water slowly, given its size and apparent weight.

So, we begin, Matt thought, cracking his neck and knuckles.

Somersaulting over the arm of a shipping crane, kicking away with his feet, he soared backwards into the air. Arching his back, twisting while laying out, he released his grapple and righted himself. Assisted by his momentum, his body was carried up and away; a crimson blur swinging across warehouses and stacks of shipping containers littering the dockyard far below. Dropping more than three-hundred feet disengaging his line, The Devil landed atop a row of modules silently; racing their length. The long rectangular metal shipping crates stacked more than four-story high, slick with rain as he skidded to a stop. Vaulting, clearing fifteen feet, he leapt onto the roof of a warehouse; making his way across the pitched surface concealed in shadow. The building leading to a water tower some thirty feet away patrolled by one of the groups of mercenaries. The armor-plated men circling the structure equipped with night-vision goggles and assault rifles.

Watching them periodically remove the goggles to wipe away rain, Daredevil made his way onto support beams beneath the tower.

"Searchlight One, give me a sit-rep," he heard the voice of the team's leader inquire over a secured com-link.

"Cold, wet and miserable, but clear Recoil," the merc responded. "Hey, what's the arrival time on our primary directive? The boys are getting antsy, they hate this…wet, rat infested city."

"Concern yourselves with staying clever, you'll be home soon enough."

Severing communications, "Screw you too, group leader," the merc stated, patrolling the tower.

Approaching from behind, striking the man in his carotid artery with his baton, Daredevil incapacitated him instantly. Rounding the arc of the structure at top speed, he rammed into a second merc knocking him into the third. Stunned, unable to level their weapons in time, he quickly assaulted them both. With a series of hand strikes meant to avoid the armor plates they wore, he attacked. The Devil using his fingers and palms to apply pressure to nerves in their arms, legs, neck and shoulders. Thoroughly subdued in a heap at his feet, he tossed their weapons over the side of the tower before checking the bodies. Without hesitation, finding no identification on either man, he dove from the water tower advancing toward a second group stationed a hundred yards away.

**BATMAN**

What hit them wasn't seen or heard for that matter. Putting Taylor and Geese down before firing a single shot. Moving toward his weapon that was dislodged from his hand, the last mercenary drew a knife from a sheath at the small of his back.

"You get one chance to answer," a whisper echoing from every direction warned. "Who hired you?"

Contemplating, gripping the dagger tighter, "I…we weren't told," the man said looking down on his teammates.

"Your team leader?"

"Recoil…his name's Recoil. You're the Batman, right? He said you might show, but I didn't think we'd ever see you up close."

Striking the man from behind, "You still haven't," Batman replied.

Before the first body hit the roof of the dockyard's receiving office, Daredevil heard wind driven from the lungs of two mercenaries. The force of such a blow leaving its recipients gasping for air; the two ensuing blows, leaving them unconscious. A third man, who'd just returned from pissing, had met a similar fate; yet, not before speaking to the caped figure racing for a fire escape. Darting across the rooftop, the man dressed in composite mesh body-armor, cape and cowl stopped and dashed into the shadows. His effort to conceal himself, although admirable, ultimately useless given Daredevil's abilities. Realizing his attempt to hide would be futile, Batman stepped out into the open.

"This isn't Hell's Kitchen," he said, studying the crimson vigilante walking toward him.

"I wasn't aware it mattered; criminals travel and..."

"Not to my city."

"You may want to tell that to…"

"Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin," Batman said turning. "I'm aware of his presence in Gotham, he's my problem now, your assistance won't be necessary, call it a night."

"Not going to happen."

With speed that Matt could only describe as impressive, Batman hurled two miniature bat-shaped throwing stars at his head. One of the razor-sharp weapons passing mere inches from his face as he deflected the other using his baton. Equally impressive, the man had covered more than fifteen feet in the time it took Matt to dodge his first attack. The second coming in the form of a right cross aimed at his jaw. The blow obviously meant to put Daredevil on his ass and possibly knock him out in the process.

Damnit, he's not holding back, Matt thought, stepping away from an uppercut followed by an overhand right.

Countering with a series of jabs, Daredevil followed with a roundhouse kick designed to put distance between them. Absorbing the attack to his ribs, Batman grabbed his arm and pulled him in close. Using a combination of short choppy punches, elbows and knee strikes, the Dark Knight sought to attack pressure points while negating his opponent's speed. Hearing and reading the man's muscle fiber firing as he threw each blow, the Daredevil was able to ward off most of the strikes. His forearms beginning to bruise beneath his padded costume from the force of the assault. The Man Without Fear redirecting and countering as he trapped Batman's upper arm and tossed him over his shoulder. Landing on his back and rolling to his feet as he extended his cape outward, the Dark Knight exploded a strobe directed at the eyes of his opponent. The light pattern designed to overwhelm the ocular nerves and cause momentary blindness and confusion.

Turning away as if blinded, He thinks I can see, Matt thought, staggering backward.

Sensing Batman rushing in, preparing to deliver a vicious blow to the gut, Daredevil spun away grabbing his cape. Pulling him downward, hearing his pulse quickening for the first time that night, he drove his baton into the back of Gotham's protector's head.

"Don't hold that against me when you wake up," Matt said leaving him semi-unconscious where he lay.

**SHEAL DOCKLANDS**: Daredevil

Docking on the far side of the pier, the Galahad swayed softly in the water. The large containership partially weighted with black unmarked cargo containers and large crated machine parts. Waiting, being prepped by a small contingent of sailors dressed in camouflage, three flatbed semitrucks set parked on the dock. The unmarked trucks guarded by the remaining three mercenaries, Recoil and a much larger man wearing a hooded poncho. Removing the unmarked containers, a crane operator placed them next to the semitrucks as the crew of the Galahad removed their contents and covered them with tarps. Lifted onto the back of the semitrucks, the freight being guided into place and lowered, it was strapped down and secured.

"When they're finished loading the equipment, get ready to move out," Recoil said directing his men. "Jackson, you'll ride with Mr. Sweet. I want him safely delivered to the airport, no excuses."

"What about Taylor and the others, we should go back and find them," the merc said.

"They're expendable, no?" the large hooded man stated. "Much like you, yes?"

"Who the fuck is this…"

Grabbing the merc by the throat, lifting him off his feet, "I'm the only one capable of stopping the Batman," the man said.

Leveling their weapons on the hooded man, the remaining mercenaries spread out to surround him. Recoil using his assault rifle to gesture for the large man to drop his lieutenant. Smiling, placing the choking man back on the ground, the large man turned and walked away laughing.

"Now to hunt real game," he said, racing into the night throwing off the poncho.

Standing atop a building overlooking the dockyards' main gate, Daredevil watched the last truck departing. The wheels of the four flat haulers riding low as they passed beneath the iron entrance. Seeing each vehicle turning onto Ore Street, they were heavily laden with the weight of what registered to be high-performance engines of some kind. The four machines, although similar in size and width, possessing an alloy density unlike anything Matt had ever viewed.

What are you up to Fisk, Matt thought, allowing the trucks to turn onto Adrian St. before pursuing them?

Stopping, hearing the sound of accelerated wind, what felt like a bullet took Daredevil off his feet. The force hitting him in the back spinning him head over heel as he plummeted bouncing off the side of an adjacent building, a window ledge and an air unit; before splashing in the alley below. Willing himself to rise as he heard the footfalls of someone running above him, he moved to conceal himself in the darkness of the alleyway.

Trained to push pass the pain in his side as he sought to regain his bearings, he attempted to assess the threat.

That…bullet made no sound, Matt thought searching for an entry point, thankful for the ballistic mesh fibers of his suit. It must have grazed me, but that can't be possible given the force of impact! From that range I should be bleeding out or dead!

Dropping from the roof, Recoil landed atop an abandon car parked in the alleyway crushing its hood. The mercenary dressed in an exoskeleton suit wearing large oversized gauntlet type weapons on both arms.

"Oh my, that shit looked painful, my friend," he said leaping down off the car. "Mr. Sweet said these puppies were going to be fun, but I had no idea how much. I was hoping to use them on the Batman, but…well let's say, he's got his own dance partner tonight. So, guess what; that just leaves me and you darlin'."

Throwing his baton at the face of Recoil, Daredevil vaulted over a dumpster running toward the mouth of the alleyway. With a wave of one arm the merc deflected the rod and tossed him backward, slamming Daredevil into debris aligning the alley. Pinning him in place with both hands extended outward, his gauntlets glowing blue, Recoil begun to sing, Tom Petty's, 'Free Falling'.

"That's the spirit champ, keep fighting," he grinned. "I wouldn't want to make this too boring for you. Normally, I take no pleasure in pulling the wings off butterflies; well not much, but I so want to see what these puppies can do."

**BATMAN**

"Sir, the Galahad's cargo was unloaded and is in route to Gotham Airport as we speak. The convoy has a thirty-minute head start and appears to be traveling toward the Starr Bridge."

"I'll intercept them shortly, Alfred," Batman said turning onto Fisher Street; the batmobile's tires screeching as he took the sharp turn, engaging the vehicle's boosters.

"Do we even know what's being transported, Master Bruce?"

"I was…side tracked during my investigation," Batman said touching the back of his head. "Computer, pull up a satellite feed and identify any notable markings on all vehicles leaving the dockyard. Also, run plates and report any violations, warrants or infractions to the GCPD; we may need to involve them."

"Is that wise sir; these are professional killers. Any officer seeking to pull them over could be in grave danger."

"Fisk wouldn't risk that Alfred," Batman said. "The Kingpin's anonymity is critical to his success in business as well as crime; he won't jeopardize it. It's likely he'll feign ignorance or allege the goods were stolen and acquired without his knowledge. He's a brilliant strategist; Bruce Wayne has faced him in the past. That said, he'll have a contingency plan in place if something should go wrong. Given how much trouble he's willing to go through, I'd say it won't be good for Gotham."

"Then I hope whatever your planning is adequate sir."

"I'm hoping it doesn't come to that Alfred; I hate being in debt."

**DAREDEVIL**

Like a stone skipped across a pond, Daredevil struck the pavement several times. The crimson vigilante coming to a sudden stop as Recoil made a fist using the gauntlets.

"Oh wow, this is like a freakin' video game, right," Recoil said gleefully. "I wave my hands and…"

Walking out into the street, Recoil raised his hands tossing Daredevil into the air. Bringing them down, he watched the costumed hero land with a thud.

I have to get close, Matt thought coughing, spitting blood. Hearing the man's pulse racing, He's truly enjoying this; it's really exciting him.

Pushing himself into a kneeling position slowly, Daredevil began to crawl away from his adversary.

"You look bad buddy," the mercenary said casually approaching him. "Tell you what I'm going to do; you get a sixty second life break; where you can regret ever screwing with me and mine. After that, I'll bounce your sorry ass around Gotham awhile, then kill you."

Falling face first into a puddle, Daredevil collapsed. His breathing becoming shallow as his body begun to convulse uncontrollably.

Rushing in, "No, no, no," Recoil screamed, turning the horned hero over using his gauntlets. "You don't get to die on me like that! I'm just starting to get a feel for these things!"

Lifting Daredevil up with the power of the gloves, his body limp and lifeless, Recoil drew him closer. The mercenary reaching for Matt as if to examine his corpse.

"Damn you, your supposed to be a hero; some kind of tough guy," Recoil said pouting. "I barely touch you and look, you're a rag doll. You suck hard at this hero shi..."

Grabbing the chest harness of the merc's exo-suit, Daredevil drove his forehead into Recoil's face. Stunned, wobbling slightly as his nose exploded, the man released the vigilante from his kinetic grip. His hands instinctively seeking to protect his face as he tried to retreat from the attack. Obscuring his view, the oversized gloves powered down while he attempted to regain his footing. Mustering his remaining strength, Daredevil moved. Focusing a series of kicks at the joints of the mercenary's suit he battered his knees. The design of the gear obviously crafted to compensate for the weight and use of the oversized weapons.

With open palm slaps to the face, he pressed his advantage keeping Recoil off balance. The merc unable to defend himself with his hands as he powered up the gloved devices.

"Get off me," he screamed, raising his hands.

Feeling the effect of the gauntlets taking hold, Daredevil grabbed the suits' harness once more, pulling it apart. The kinetic push back driving him away as he slammed into a parked car on the far side of the street. Like a paper bag, Recoil folded and collapsed, his body unable to support the suit and gauntlets. The merc's weapons depowering while pinning him to the pavement as he struggled to lift them.

Wincing, "If you don't mind, I'll take that break now," Matt said clutching his side, resting against the vehicle.

**BATMAN**

Branching out in four directions, four flat-haulers raced through Gotham. The large semitrucks veering toward separate exits as they raced along the highway in the middle of the night. Each small neon blip taking an alternate route on the batmobile's tracking screen.

They're playing a shell game, Batman thought, pursuing the semi marked number two on the screen.

The fifth vehicle, a black sedan containing Fisk's assistant, was seemingly heading toward the Gotham City Airport moving away from the four trucks. Opting to follow the semi with the lightest payload, Batman sped after it. The driver veering to avoid several cars bringing them to a stop, causing a roadblock in hopes of impeding the batmobile less than fifty yards behind it.

"This is all a game," Batman said speeding through the light traffic avoiding a SUV spinning out of control. "The Kingpin, is toying with me."

"I don't understand sir…why? Surely, the man has better things to do with his time and money than to engage in such antics. He's obviously up to something, but what could he ever hope to gain with this stunt?"

"In the boardroom, Wilson has always leveraged his true intent with what seemed to be insignificant transactions; even at times insane from a business standpoint. His purchase of the housing in Hell's Kitchen was done by first overpaying for all the local corner stores, auto shops and fast food restaurants. Once that was accomplished, he slowly raised the prices or closed his businesses down over a ten-year span; to drop property value and drive out the disenfranchised. This all while offering pennies on the dollar to property owners.

"The man's a fiend sir, taking advantage of the less fortunate in such away."

"He's a businessman Alfred. One who would never waste his time or money unless he thought it would profit him in the long run."

Seeing the truck turning onto an off-ramp leading into Colgate Heights, the low rent housing neighborhood located on the far Eastside, Midtown Gotham; Batman followed.

"Alfred, inform the GCPD, that the other vehicles are a threat and have them all stopped."

"Yes sir, at once; and what about this Mr. Sweet fellow?"

Rolling onto the off-ramp, "I have that under control," Batman said. "But first, I need to know exactly what Fisk has been transporting through my city."

Giving chase as the truck sped through the urban slums of the Heights, Batman watched it turn onto a side street. Pursuing, only a block away, he saw the truck parked next to the curve unattended. The driver and passenger abandoning it as both men ran in opposite directions. With the doors left open and the keys still in the ignition, the radio could be heard turned up to its highest setting. Making their way toward it, a group of teens exiting a house a few doors down were preparing to investigate. Each boy and girl dressed in the gang colors of the Gotham City Ballers, a neighborhood gang known for their criminal activity within the city. Already climbing onto the truck, undoing the straps that secured the freight on the back, they were pulling away the tarp that covered it. The large piece of high-tech equipment shining beneath the street lamp as the gang crowded around it.

Leaping out of the batmobile, Batman noted two of the gang members climbing into the cab. Stopping, the girl and boy quickly ran away calling for the others to do the same.

"We have a problem," Batman said, watching the gang scatter, sprinting back the way they came. "Call the GCPD and have the bomb squad alerted. Inform any law enforcement officer who finds an abandon truck; it may be rigged with explosives."

Approaching the truck, Batman studied the device on its flatbed. What appeared to be a prototype jet engine, was little more than a hollowed-out shell. The prototype crafted to look functional from a distance, was built using a newly fabricated metal alloy.

The specs of this engine render it nonfunctional, Batman thought moving to the cab. They're all just decoys to get my attention. This entire night has been crafted to keep me running in circles, but…

Throwing himself forward, springing to his feet as a fire-hydrant ripped off the truck door, Batman spun into a fighting stance. Glimpsing the large figure in the rearview mirror of the batmobile upon arriving, alerted him to his attacker; the size and strength of the man, indicating it hadn't been the Daredevil waiting in ambush.

Running at him with a deep feral growl, Victor Creed leapt high into the air. The assassin known as Sabretooth tackling The Dark Knight pressing him back toward the ground. Relaxing his body and absorbing Creed's weight, Batman lunched the mutant over his head using their momentum. The weight causing the vigilante to grunt as he used all his strength to do so.

I don't have time for this, Batman thought, flipping to his feet and hurling several bat-shurikens behind him.

Striking Sabretooth in the chest and arm, rushing the much larger man, Batman begun his assault. Creed had been a soldier, spy and assassin; depending on which CIA, FBI, NSA or Interpol report you chose to believe. Most of his files either altered of redacted, little was known about his early life; if anything. Studying his psychological profile, it was commonly believed he was frequently tortured, starved and abandoned as a child. The feral mutant taking an almost euphoric joy in doing the same to his victims before killing them.

Like leaves stuck on what looked to be a dark leather costume accented with a fur collar, the assassin brushed away the small knives. Smiling at Batman coming toward him, he roared and braced himself waving the caped hero to him with open arms. Choosing to meet the villain head on, Batman bobbed and weaved throwing body shots into the mutants exposed ribs and abdomen. The much taller and larger man allowing him to do so as a show of strength.

"They say you're good; some even say the best," Sabretooth smirked revealing enormous K-9 teeth. "Tonight, we find out for ourselves!"

Slashing at Batman with claws extending from his fingers, Sabretooth attempted to cleave the man's head from his shoulders. Slipping beneath his attack, driving a knee into his inner thigh, Batman thrusted a palm strike upward into the assassin's armpit. The force of the technique meant to dislocate the man's shoulder and hinder his defense.

His attacks are instinctive, Batman thought, causing Sabretooth to give ground as he tried to shake off the numbness in his arm. His fighting style is wild and unorthodox, playing into his animalistic nature; now to upset him.

"I don't have time for this," Batman said turning his back on Creed and walking away. "I don't have time for you! Go tell Fisk I'm coming for him and get the hell out of my city!"

Hesitant, taken aback and insulted, Creed roared charging as he reached for the tiny caped figure in front of him. His blind rage and fury felt as he growled and slashed ripping at Batman's cape and cowl; the garment torn in two falling on the wet pavement. Facing him, dodging his assault, Batman punched a bat engraved taser into his chest. The small black weapon's 2500-volt capacity amplified by the prongs placed on Creed's body at the outset of their confrontation. With a savage scream, like an animal caught in a trap, Creed fell face down in the middle of the street.

Entering the truck, Batman saw what made the teenage boy and girl flee. On the seat, about the size of a small suitcase, a low yield thermal nuclear bomb had been left. The explosive device capable of leveling all the Heights in a four-block radius; covering the area in radioactive fallout for years.

"Alfred, where are the transports now," Batman said, examining the bomb.

Sounding confused, "They've come to a stop sir, at random locales," Alfred said. "Their drivers have all fled and are being pursued by the Gotham City police at this time."

Tapping the side of what remained of his cowl, "You've been listening I take it," Batman said, removing an access plate on the bomb. "You have five minutes according to the timer on the mechanism."

**SUPERMAN**

I could have handled all this early on, Bruce, Superman thought racing through the skyline of Gotham City. Your pride will be the death of you someday. The uncertainty of the Kingpin's plan notwithstanding, we may have been better served confronting him head on.

Reading the small computer in his hand, the stationary blips on the screen numbering one to three, Superman altered his course and heading. With speed that defied description, resonating in a sonic boom behind him, he raced toward South Channel Island. In a second, he covered over five miles; the bluish-red streak stopping suddenly, hovering high above the first of the three abandon trucks. Below him, police officers were setting a perimeter of fifty yards around the vehicle, their bomb squad seen advancing cautiously.

"Excuse me gentlemen, if you wouldn't mind standing clear," Superman said drifting downward, landing next to the truck. Ripping the door off and tossing it aside, he carefully removed the explosive. "I have it, now what?"

"Don't let it detonate," the voice of Batman said over their com-link.

Racing up into the sky hurling the device into the air, Superman watched it speed off into space. Turning, flying in the direction of the second semi, he repeated the process twice more.

"I'm on my way to Gotham Airport," Batman said over coms. "Fisk's flight landed in New York three hours ago, you'll find him in his Manhattan penthouse."

"No legal objections," Superman said ascending higher into the night sky.

"You won't be arresting him, Clark. Your presence and knowledge of his true identity will unhinge him, perhaps he'll make a mistake we can capitalize on later."

Flying over the Gotham River, "Is that what I've become Bruce, a harbinger of your pending justice," Superman said moving toward New York.

"More like a symbol. I doubt your costume could generate the necessary visual threat to warrant…."

Hearing his com-link cut out, "Batman, come in," Superman said lowering onto the penthouse patio of Fisk's Manhattan apartment.

Relaxing on a patio sofa, "Finally; we've been expecting you for some time Superman," the giant businessman said dressed in a white robe.

"Yes, and Wilson tells me, you're well worth the wait." The Mandarin added, holding a sliver of kryptonite produced by one of his rings.

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Lost Sheep

**Prologue**

"Jonathan Samuel Kent, don't you dare," Lois Lane Kent said horrified. "If you don't put those down right this minute, your father will hear about it, mister!"

Glaring, casting a look that could stop a rhino from charging, the beautiful brunette held her briefcase up as a shield. The expensive black attaché case and gray outfit she wore, just one of many purchased before becoming a mother and wife. The then world-renowned reporter growing very accustom to such extravagances. The job interview she had scheduled for earlier that afternoon capable of returning her to said status.

With a defiant laugh and a flick of the wrist, the damage was done. The first of two bright yellow water-balloons heading for center mass twisting midair. Closing her eyes in mid scream, Lois tried to make herself small. Her prayer to disappear not granted as the sound of splashing water filled her ears. Opening her eyes slowly, one at a time, still dry, she saw a sight as common as sunrise.

"My Superman," she said proudly, hiding behind her husband.

"Really Jonathan," Clark Kent said smiling, his white t-shirt drenched. "You'd use your mother as bait in our water-balloon fight?"

"I win," Jonathan said dancing. "I can't wait to tell Damian his plan worked!"

"Well, that explains everything," Lois said, straightening her clothes. "It's Bruce's fault."

**Lost Sheep **

**Kal-El**

Awash with pain, Kal-El opened his eyes. The throbbing in his skull, back and neck causing the alien to grimace. Beside him, two tiny shards of kryptonite floated freely. The pulsating crystals humming and glowing emerald green; illuminating the thick clear liquid surrounding him. Submerged, the whole of his body suspended naked, he sought to move. His hands and feet bound using strange black manacles that seemed to fight against the attempt. The weight of the restraints pulling him down to the bottom of his prison. Covering his nose and mouth, a breathing apparatus supplied oxygen as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. The conduits and lines keeping him alive connecting to the top of the cylindrical glass bio-chamber housing him.

Feeling more of his strength draining out of his body, 'The Man of Steel', peered out beyond his transparent confines. His eyes barely able to make out the equipment placed within the dimly lit room. What looked to be a bio-lab of some sort, was filled with strange containers, tables, chairs, terminals and more glass chambers. The bio-chambers positioned at the center of the room elevated off the floor. The red, blue and white lights seen at their base; blinking, flashing and clicking as generators whined in the distance.

_What is this place_, Kal-El thought, trying to focus? _There are others being held in here with me._

Overwhelmed with a need to sleep, Kal-El tried to make out the silhouettes of the two figures seen imprisoned on either side of him. Their massive forms; he presumed to be male, suspended and bound much like himself. The presence of their jailer standing behind them all, somehow felt.

**Tony Stark**

Braking through Earth's upper atmosphere, The Avenger's, Mark IV Quinjet jostled gently. Realigning the craft's six vertical take-off and landing thrusters, Tony Stark jettison an atmospheric-booster before laying in his course. His departure from the planet undetected by any known sensor or tracking system. The aerodynamic spacecraft camouflaged against the empty black of space only trailed by a streak of fire. Moving at over 30,000 miles per hour almost silently, the ship was scheduled to reach its destination in less than twenty minutes.

"Friday, play something…speedful," Stark said rising from the pilot chair.

"Speedful; that's not a word," Stark's personal A.I. announced.

"It should be. Copyright it, and have it added to the global lexicon and dictionaries. Definition; a sensation of extreme speed; with all the varying connotations. It'll be just one more thing the planet can thank me for."

Playing Sammy Hagar's, 'I can't drive 65', "I'm sure the world will be a better place because of it," Friday declared.

Exiting the cockpit, setting the automatic pilot, Stark entered the spacecraft's sitting lounge. The spacious living quarter on the vessel decorated with expensive mahogany décor, Persian carpet, wide plush chairs and several viewport windows. Projected from the ceiling in front of every seat, holographic displays of various locations on Earth were seen. Each map highlighting points and coordinates from around the world.

"Tell me you found something," Tony said.

"No, not at all," T'Challa replied, the regal dark umber-skin Wakandan king examining several data files. "The radioactive signature of this substance remains undetectable on Earth. My lead scientists were unable to synthesize it and are attempting to track it using its unique harmonic frequency as we speak."

"Bruce won't like that. The fact he even thought to reach out to us, means he's desperate."

Rotating a kryptonite hologram in his hand, "I dislike it as well," T'Challa said. "A being possessing the power of the alien, going missing at that time, it's not a coincidence."

"I know; but we don't volunteer anything until Bruce puts all his cards on the table. He always knows more than he's willing to let on in any given situation."

**Watchtower One**

Descending after making several passes, the Quinjet lowered onto Watchtower One's landing dock. The Justice League space station hovering more than five-hundred miles above the Earth over its western hemisphere. Resembling a child's spinning top encompassed by a habitation ring, it spun slowly. Its enormous solar panels drinking up sunlight powering the great structure.

Enclosed in a retractor field, drawn down into a landing bay hidden within the station, the Quinjet came to rest over several anti-gravity rings. The glowing white rings locking the ship into place using a stasis field. With the screeching of large metallic bay doors, the hangar opened into the Watchtower facility. The state-of-the-art space station utilizing alien and otherworldly materials. The complexity of the facility's A.I. and computational ability unrivalled by any on Earth. Approaching the Quinjet, dressed in costume, Batman trailed Cyborg as they crossed the hangar bay.

"Good morning, Bruce," Tony said, disembarking the Quinjet.

"Stark," Batman said.

"I should really think about getting my own space station. We could be neighbors and lend each other milk and sugar."

"You'd have to live with the fact; I was here first," Batman said.

"Yeah, but mine would be bigger," Tony replied. "You're all dolled up Bruce ol'boy, I feel underdressed."

"I highly doubt it."

Scanning Tony and T'Challa from head to toe, "I'm detecting nanites housed inside the wristwatch and in a tactical body layer worn under his suit," Cyborg said. "The Wakandan's necklace, wrist beads and dashiki are also housing nanotechnology, but the alloy's molecular density and energy pattern is interfering with my probe."

"I'll have to insist you leave your tech inside your craft, Tony, T'Challa," Batman said. "I assure you; you won't need it aboard the Watchtower. Cyborg, please bring them each an Avenger compression bodysuit and boots."

"Bruce, you still stewing over Jarvis hacking your cave? I gave you my word it wouldn't happen again."

"It took me six months to purge my systems and upgrade the defensive protocols, Stark," Batman said. "That's after losing more than ten-percent of my archive while attempting data retrieval."

"I did offer to assist you with that. If it's any consolation, it only took Jarvis five days to breach the NSA, FBI, CIA and SHIELD's database. He took a little more than a month to infiltrate your cave."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Batman said. "Please join me in War Room 4, when your ready gentlemen."

Escorting them to a conference room after dressing, Cyborg requested Tony and T'Challa wait for Batman's return. Relatively empty, they were given seats at a long white table that hovered in the center of the room. The pristine hall designed to give the feel of judicial prudence and justice yet remain intimate. The 'Justice League' symbol and motto super imposed on the far wall, table, ceiling and etched upon all doors leading into the hall. On either side of the room, following the curvature of its walls, large observation windows gave a clear view of the Earth from space. The blue orb seen glowing in the distance as countless satellites moved within the planet's upper atmosphere.

"We should get started," Batman announced, entering the room accompanied by Wonder Woman.

"My day has just improved considerably," Tony said standing. "Is it possible for you to be even more stunning than the last time I saw you, Diana?"

Preparing to take a seat across from him, "Amazonians age much slower than humans, this is true…but like all things we too fade."

Dressed in her iconic belt and 'Lasso of Truth', Diana's costume had been altered from a skirt and golden breast plate. Wonder Woman now choosing to wear silver promethia armor over a blue thestlemail bodysuit. The lightweight chainmail like body-armor eighty times stronger than steel and as fitted as a second layer of skin.

"Yet, your beauty remains eternal, Princess," T'Challa said studying the tall raven-haired Amazonian.

"And your kindness not easily forgotten, Wakandan King," Wonder Woman said bowing.

Standing at the head of the table, "Superman's missing," Batman began. "That's an unacceptable truth; but it's where we find ourselves. A number of his rivals have threatened Metropolis in his absence. The Young Titans have been assigned to protect the city in lieu of this. Our cover story, that he's off world is holding up, but that won't last for long. If his enemies realize Clark is out of the picture; the world itself becomes vulnerable. So, how do we proceed people?"

"Finding Clark is top priority," Wonder Woman said.

"All surveillance of the Kingpin for the past year has led nowhere," Stark said. "My security team reports nothing of any significance on that front."

"Yes, the Wakandan, Ministry of Defense has been stifled as well. Whatever part Fisk had to play; it is now obvious he was only a pawn."

"Which means, someone has maneuvered to capture Clark and conceal themselves in the process," Wonder Woman said. "But to what end? There are only a handful of beings capable of besting him in direct conflict."

"I don't know about that; from what I understand, a tiny chunk of rock seems to do the trick."

"The scarcity of that said rock Tony, makes it almost nonexistent," T'Challa explained. "Even fabricated, a replica could not hope to affect him for long."

"The chemical composition of authentic kryptonite can't be duplicated on Earth, or in this universe for that matter," Batman added. "So, we'll focus on the handful of enemies capable of beating, abducting and detaining Clark."

Dimming the lights slightly, the room darkened as blast screens closed over the conference room windows. Taking a seat, Batman punched data into a holographic interface projected in front of him. The Dark Knight, pulling up a virtual catalog of known villains as he waved away and dismissed those not fitting his criteria for kidnapping Superman. Increasing the facial profiles of the remaining few, he then provided a percentage of probability that flashed beneath them. The faces of Darkseid, Apocalypse, Thanos, Brainiac, Doomsday, Alexander Luthor and Victor Von Doom yielding the highest percentage of likelihood.

"This is my short list based on those not only having the ability to threaten Clark," Batman said. "But also possesses the intellectual and motivational fortitude to accomplish their goal; in regards to our current dilemma. Although Doomsday may not meet my intellectual standards, I hesitate to dismiss him off hand."

"Assuming whoever has Superman, truly needed Wilson Fisk's assistance; your list becomes that much shorter," T'Challa said.

"Precisely," Batman replied. "Most of these despots would find a partnership or affiliation with any human unacceptable, to say the least. So, I suggest, we focus our attention on those that are devoid of that compunction for now."

"I guess I'll pay Lex a visit," Tony said. "It's been some time and I'd love to catch up."

"Then I shall call on Victor," T'Challa said. "His country's none metahuman policy will make it impossible for anyone to enter undetected. As King of Wakanda; he dare not refuse to meet with me."

"Diana and J'onn will accompany you," Batman stated. "If Von Doom is involved, I want them on site. Of all current suspects, he interest me the most. I'll investigate The Kingpin myself, just to be thorough. If there's nothing else to explore Stark, we have our assignments."

**Metropolis **

What had begun as a normal day was quickly becoming anything but. With the panic of the crowd, blaring of sirens and shattering of glass; the absence of Metropolis' protector was painfully obvious. Like a locomotive, Cain Marko walked through another building as casually as; the proverbial bull through a china shop. The enormous 6-foot, 10-inch titan crushing concrete, wood, steel, brick and glass beneath his feet. His dark crimson costume and domed helmet covered in dust revealing a massively muscular physique that resembled a bipedal tank. The three wide crimson bands around his biceps, forearms and fist reflecting a fearful crowd, crumbling infrastructure and pursuant law enforcement. The Metropolis Police Department firing at the villain from behind their vehicles as they sought to flank him.

Tilting his head slightly, Marko shielded his eyes. The knowledge that mere dust, debris and bullets would do little to harm him, not enough to prevent the reflex.

"You cops keep shooting at my face and I'm going to take it personally," Marko said, swatting away a hail of gunfire. "Run along and find me real heroes to punish, maggots. I owe this city a thrashing, courtesy of, The Juggernaut!"

Hurling a chunk of debris at a pair of MPD squad cars, the Juggernaut continued on his path of destruction. The rampage taking him on a direct course toward Metropolis' Central Business District. One of the city's richest and most influential sectors it was home to LexCorp Tower and the Galaxy Communication Building. The two sites considered landmarks and symbols of the city's global success.

"We need to get closer," Maxwell Hunt said, watching the attack from a Daily Planet helicopter. "This psycho is my ticket to a Pulitzer Prize; just stay on top of him, rookie. You keep that damn camera rolling no matter what. We can't afford to miss a thing."

Approaching with several urban police tanks, "By the authority of, The Metropolis Metahuman Task Force, you are hereby ordered to stand down or be fired upon," the MMTF commander announced.

"Your funeral, but do try; I'll get some amusement out of that," Juggernaut said chuckling.

With the eruption of a gas main, small explosions rocked nearby structures and shook vehicles. All utility companies cutting the city off from fuel and power during such meta-human incidents. The surrounding buildings in a two-mile radius swaying as gas lines placed beneath them burst and issued flames into the air. Stumbling or falling as most fled, citizens continued to scream calling for help or looking for loved ones. Their small pitiful voices growing all the more intolerable with every cry Cain Marko heard. Demanding they suffer in silence; he began stumping the pavement causing the earth to split in two. The effort to swallow them up quickly becoming a game.

Launching large-caliber high-velocity rounds, the MMTF urban assault tanks opened fire. Designed to withstand heavy assaults and maneuver over various terrains, the five mini tanks employed two long guns and a modified pulse cannon; the weapons tested against Superman himself. Shooting 315mm explosive shells at the seemingly indestructible villain striking him head-on and from behind, bursting into plumes of fire and dark gray clouds, all present waited for the smoke to clear. The outcome never truly in doubt as Juggernaut marched onward unaffected and unwavering in his campaign of terror.

"Tell me you got that," Hunt said, leaning out of the copter.

"I got it," Tabitha Fitzgerald said. The beautiful young strawberry-blond camera woman positioned beside him using a harness to anchor herself to her seat. "This guy is really wrecking the city, boss man! What is he even after; and why not just give it to him?"

"Easier said than done, rookie," Hunt said. "Superman dusted his ass a few years back and the Juggernaut's been chomping at the bit to get revenge ever since! Well, needless to say; this is it! Seeing that the, 'Man of Steel', has been MIA, his enemies are taking a dump on everything he holds dear! Lucky for you, you'll be there to film this maniac giving me an exclusive interview; when all is said and done!"

Suddenly, dipping violently, the Daily Planet helicopter veered left. The action meant to avoid one of the MMTF's tanks as it sped pass them; causing the craft to spin out. Thrown off balance, grabbing hold of Tabitha's harness, Hunt dangled over the city below. Yelling, searching for any handhold, the gangly news reporter sought to save himself.

"This rig won't hold us both," Tabitha said hearing her harness tearing. The ripping of the reinforced leather beginning to pull apart in Hunt's hand.

"You just keep filming, damn it. If I die, I want everyone to remember; I was twice the reporter, Lois Lane ever was!"

Jerking once more with the impact of a second police tank, the copter careened out of control. Hunt falling away from the aircraft reaching for Tabitha who spun out of view strapped to her chair. The guttural screeching of the camera woman matching the sound of twisting metal. Hunt watching the mini tank striking a water tower causing it to rupture above the city. Closing his eyes, resigned to his fate, he laughed out loud. The rush of wind filling the reporter's ears blocking out all thought.

Rising up from the street, a sound of awe could be heard over the clamorous devastation. The fading of screams quickly becoming cheerful hope. Startled, feeling the sensation of rising also, Hunt looked to see himself being lifted into the sky.

_What in the hell_, Max Hunt thought, turning to see Superboy racing toward the Daily Planet copter.

Stabilizing the swirling aircraft with one hand, the handsome dark-haired teenager placed the news reporter back inside. Strapping him in before checking on his camera person, Superboy deposited the vehicle atop an eight story skyrise. The young alien quickly shooting like a reddish-blue laser back toward the city below.

Smiling Juggernaut stopped, seeing all the insignificant people gathered around him doing the same. A large group less than a hundred yards away gawking up at the sky hopeful. Cheering dead in their tracks, many were pointing. The descending hero hovering behind the gigantic villain giving them an adequate measure of relief.

"Finally, someone to beat on," Juggernaut said continuing on his way. "I'm guessing you're the first of many?"

Drifting slightly out of the range of the Juggernaut, Jonathan Kent looked down on the domed head criminal.

"I doubt I'll need anyone else to help me deal with you," Superboy said.

Turning, "Just come a little closer and say that, smart ass," Juggernaut said beckoning to Jon. "I'll wipe my tush with that pretty red cape and bury you in it. How old are you anyway boy; and where in the hell is your old man hiding? I've got a beaten with his name written all over it."

"Why are you doing this," Superboy said. "Willfully killing and harming so many! What have any of these people done to deserve this?"

"Really kid? You honestly think I give two shits about these sheep? If your old man wasn't such a pansy, popping these zits wouldn't be necessary, but to be handed my hat by someone like him…Cyttorak finds that, unacceptable."

"My dad left you bruised and battered the last time you fought," Jon said. "This time, I'll leave you broken."

Leaping into the air, "You little bastard," Juggernaut screamed.

"Thank you," Superboy said speeding away with Juggernaut in tow. "I wasn't sure you'd actually take the bait."

A magical construct, the Juggernaut was the avatar of Cyttorak, a demon king from an alternate dimension. Deriving pleasure from chaos, the heinous entity had gifted Cain Marko with superhuman strength, durability and mystical protection as its herald of destruction. His abilities rooted in magic, making Juggernaut unstoppable once in motion and immovable while touching earth. His powers growing immensely the longer he fought or leveled obstacles in his path.

Swatting at Superboy as they raced higher over the city toward the West River, Juggernaut tried to pull away. The strength of the titan taking Jonathan off course causing him to veer and drop sporadically.

_Man, this guy is heavy_, Jonathan thought trying to gain more lift. _I can't keep him aloft for much longer. It's as if he's being pulled back toward the earth like a freak'n magnet._

"You think this lil'joyride is going to save Metropolis, piss ant; guess again! Once I touch back down, I'm going to turn your daddy's precious tiny city into a goddamn parking lot!"

Hurling Juggernaut with all his might, "I don't think so," Superboy said, slinging him over the ocean.

Falling in a bizarre arch, Juggernaut's body angled itself back toward earth; Superboy swooping in to redirect him with an overhead right. Splashing into the ocean, the criminal sank like a mountain beneath the waves. His crimson domed helmet disappearing as he flashed Jonathan the finger.

Tapping his earpiece, "The fish is in its bowl," Superboy said pursuing him.

**The Young Titans**

Plummeting downward to the ocean floor, Juggernaut seemed to glow within a crimson aura. The mystic energy field surrounding the massive villain allowing him to breathe underwater. Circling from a distance, Damian Wayne followed in a bat shaped submersible. The dark underwater vehicle cutting through ocean currents while tracking Juggernaut via radar.

"I have visuals on target," Robin said. "He'll touch bottom in one minute ten seconds, I suggest we move people! Raven, Wiccan, you're up! Aqualad, get them into position! Jonas, Superboy, be ready on my mark!"

Secured in an air tight bubble of clear water, Raven and Wiccan was placed beneath Juggernaut. The criminal hammering down upon them with seismic blows that threatened to flatten the protective sphere. His weight pressing in on the two teens, Aqualad kept them all afloat driven on crashing waves of water. The Atlantean using his hydrokinesis and 'water bearer' weapons to manipulate the ocean tides around them; moving Juggernaut farther out to sea supported atop the magical enclosure. Countering the dark energies of Cyttorak upon Marko, Raven and Wiccan were casting multiple spells that illuminated the ocean floor. The glowing mist of blackish-pink and bluish-yellow energy swirling like ink excreted from an octopus and squid. Their powers crackling and bubbling while sizzling around the enraged behemoth.

In a strained voice, "We're running out of spells Robin," Raven said. "The magic effecting him is incredible."

"It's warping reality around him," Wiccan said. "Displacing our dimension in place of Cyttorak's realm. Our magic has no effect on him directly, only on the surrounding water. I give us sixty more seconds before we're spent and my shield ward collapses."

Firing two missiles at the ocean floor, "We won't need it," Robin said. "Jonathan, Jonas; go now!"

Separating in two, each missile broke apart launching a hundred smaller rockets. The miniature devices lodging themselves into the ocean floor forming a large ring. Pulsating, emitting a concentrated resonance field, the rockets begun to shake the seabed. The crumbling rock and sand collapsing to create a sinkhole. Each missile embedded along the Calabrese Fault Line, splitting and widening the swallet even more.

"Vision, you and I are on deck," Superboy said.

Swimming in a circle to form a funnel over the hole, Jonathan drew the water upward and into the sky. Phasing through the protective ward holding Raven and Wiccan as it fell into the cavern, Vision carried them both to safety. Juggernaut dropping into the sinkhole cursing as he vowed to sodomized them all. Coming to a stop over the whirlpool created by the subsiding ocean, Superboy allowed the water to flood back onto itself. Crushing the sadistic villain beneath its weight as tons of ocean filled the cavity and drove him deep into the earth. His shouts of protest somehow heard even as he descended into the abyss.

"All Titans clear and accounted for," Superboy said.

Rising up on a pillar of water, "How long do you think that'll hold him," Aqualad inquired.

"The shallow caverns along the fault line are more than twenty-four thousand feet deep with pressures exceeding a thousand bars," Vision explained. "I would think given his unique abilities, Marko will spend a year and a half escaping."

"Perhaps, if Cyttorak chooses to leave him down there for that long," Raven said, her shadow form gliding out of the air landing on Damian's submarine taking human form.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Our priority now are the people of Metropolis. Stature, Speed, give me a sit-rep on rescue, support and retrieval?"

"Emergency units are blanketing the city along with volunteers, Robin," Stature said over comlinks. "We're still collecting data on death and injury totals as we speak."

"City wide destruction is considerable but mostly superficial given the readiness of Metropolis' damage control," Speed responded. "I'm making the rounds now, but the city appears none the worse for wear; all things considered, fearless leader."

"Let's hope we can keep it that way until my father returns," Superboy said.

"If he returns," Robin challenged. "I need to check in with Batman and the Justice League. The rest of you, do what you can for Metropolis."

**Latveria**

"Today in global news, the superhuman menace, The Juggernaut, laid waste to downtown Metropolis," an anchor stated on a holographic news feed. "Foiled by the heroic efforts of, **The Young Titans**, the dangerous villain was apprehended and imprisoned. The teenage son of Superman; Superboy, seen confronting the criminal before disposing of him speedfully."

Watching the global news, "'Speedfully'; is that a word," Diana said seated inside a Wakandan transport.

"Not one I'd ever choose to use," T'Challa replied seated beside her. "We'll be landing shortly; Victor is sending a small delegation to welcome us."

"You've had dealings with this man in the past?"

Nodding, "I am a King and yes he is a dictator, but our interest has aligned in the past," T'Challa said. "Von Doom has done much good for his people. His technological patents affording a modicum of wealth for his country. As a ruler, he is not the worst I've seen."

"You sound as though you admire him, T'Challa?"

"It is safe to say; I understand the man and can appreciate his struggles as a ruler, Princess."

Small, nestled between Romania, Hungary and the Carpathian Mountains; Latveria was shielded beneath an oscillating energy field. A combination of modern architecture blended with ancient Romanian heritage, the strange amalgamation of practical technology and history had been merged seamlessly. Every renovated brick and wooden patchwork structure making up the hillside homes, shops and stalls delicately sandwiched between unique metal-plated buildings. The polished metallic edifices towering high over the surrounding landscape resting under the shadow of Babla City. The high-tech administrative center and capital of Latveria. A completely modern metropolis, the city acted as a defensive outer wall and courtyard surrounding Von Doom's hilltop castle.

Hovering above a section of airspace over Babla, the Wakandan transport lowered. The small craft guided through the field of red energy to a landing pad atop one of several buildings to the west of, Castle Doom. The once ancient home of the Latverian Royal Family, it like the country had been abdicated to Von Doom. The outer façade of the expansive stronghold masking its many technological innovations.

"As honored guest of, Lord Victor Von Doom, I welcome you to Babla City," a tall lean man greeted, dressed in the military garb of Latveria.

Dressed in a green, red and black long coat over a matching uniform, he was accessorized by two silver war-golems. Flanking him, each mechanized robot resembled a large inverted snail with four arms attached to a spherical base. The golems propelled by three rotating treads circling their spheres in place of feet. Both equipped with multiple plasma cannons mounted to their backs, carrying a heavy disruptor rifle and plasma dagger. Approaching T'Challa, Diana and four members of the Wakandan Royal Guard, The Dora Milaje, they came to a halt. The tall lean man holding up a hand.

"I am Major Radovan Albursu, of the Latverian Brigade. The Amazonian was not expected to be among your party, King T'Challa."

"The Princess is a visiting emissary from Themyscira and friend of Wakanda. She is under my protection and holds my favor."

"I can't imagine the famed, 'Wonder Woman,' being in need of any man's protection," a female voice said with a thick German accent. "But it's easy to see how she won your favor."

Dressed in red and black ballistic body armor, surrounded by a small contingent of similarly dressed Latverian soldiers, Sinthea Schmidt waved away the two robots. The assassin known as Sin speaking to her team as they turned and marched away. Daughter of the wanted terrorist, The Red Skull, Sin herself was a fugitive from several law enforcement agencies worldwide. The renown assassin, terrorist and marksman thought to be in hiding somewhere in Afghanistan.

Bowing deeply, "I meant no offense, mistress," Major Albursu said. "Please forgive, if any was incurred."

"They do grovel so well, don't they," Sin said. "Victor has spared no expense in training them…and I should know, I'm not cheap."

Stepping forward, "What you are; is a wanted criminal," Wonder Woman said. "A hired killer…"

"Not in Latveria, Diana," T'Challa interrupted. "Here, Lady Sin, is immune from all foreign laws and extraditions. The country does not acknowledge or uphold any treaties pertaining to the edicts of outside governing bodies. Latveria is a sovereign state beyond the periphery of the United Nations."

"Crime, such a fickle concept," Sin said. "One man's killer is another man's…no, I guess murder is the same wherever I go. Nonetheless, if you would follow me, Victor will have you properly attended. He apologizes for not meeting you personally, King T'Challa; and will join you shortly after conducting affairs of state."

Escorted inside a lavish hotel with every amenity, T'Challa, Diana and the Dora Milaje were shown to their private quarters. The Latverian soldiers personally trained by Sin, placed in charge of their care. Taking some time to unpack and prepare before dressing, T'Challa and Diana was shown to an extravagant dining hall for dinner. The grand dining room boasting vaulted ceilings, crystal chandeliers, several gilded fireplaces and a theatrical stage positioned toward the front of the room with a live orchestra. The elegance of the 17th century European and French décor making them both feel as though they'd traveled back in time.

"Introducing, The King of Wakanda, King T'Challa son of T'Chaka and his guest, Princess Diana of Themyscira," a manservant announced to a half full room.

Turning, examining the two royals entering the room arm and arm, those gathered spoke in hush tones. All dressed in tuxedos and evening gowns as they sipped drinks, ate appetizers and mingled; T'Challa greeted several in passing. The crowd parting as he and Diana made their way through the hall. The volume of chatter soon returning as guest resumed previous conversations and various activities.

Surprised, "I recognize some of these people," Diana said bewildered, releasing T'Challa's arm. "They're fugitives from law enforcement worldwide. That is the Gotham crime lord Roman Sionis, The Black Mask. Beside him, David Cain, an assassin affiliated with the League of Shadows."

Taking her hand gently, "Calm yourself, Diana," T'Challa whispered. "This is Latveria, the use of any metahuman power is punishable by death or the loss of said ability. We must obey the law and temper our sense of justice; to do otherwise could be interpreted as an act of war. If indeed Von Doom has captured Superman, his life could hang in the balance."

"Ah, the son of T'Chaka," a man said softly. "It is an honor to make your acquaintance, young King. I am Kaj Khang and this is my associate Jade Nguyen."

Bowing slightly, the young Chinese businessman calling himself the Mandarin and his bodyguard acknowledged the pair of royals. Khang boldly wearing the famed ten rings and dragon pendant of his father. The female killer Cheshire, wearing a stunning jade gown concealing several small knives beneath it skillfully.

"My sire did speak often of your lord father; high praise for any man," T'Challa said.

"I mourn my father's passing as you do the ascendance of your King," Khang said.

"Pardon me, this is my…"

"No need for introductions," Kaj Khang interrupted, kissing Diana's hand. "Of those gathered tonight, Wonder Woman is known above us all. To be protected by one so capable; must bring you great comfort."

"Yes, my advisors thought it wise given todays political climate. Her agreement to accompany me, a testament to her magnanimity."

Smiling, "Yes, I dare say, such a quality is unmatched in one so lovely and equally powerful," Khang said.

Ringing a bell, "I introduce your benefactor for tonight, Lord Victor Von Doom and his guest Lady Sin," the manservant announced.

"Diana, please forgive me," T'Challa said. "It could not be helped."

Battered and beaten, a member of the Dora Milaje was tossed into the room. The Wakandan Royal Guard gagged and bound in iron chains. Whispering once more, all present looked on as Von Doom followed by Sin, stood over their prisoner. The handsome Latverian lord entering the room casually; dressed in a hunter green tuxedo carrying a small square device. Standing next to him adorned in her ballistic armor, Sin held a sword and modified vector assault weapon. The assassin's gaze fixed on Diana as the Amazon moved to the royal warrior's side.

"T'Challa, what's the meaning of this," Wonder Woman said.

"What is the meaning indeed," Von Doom challenged. "This creature has infiltrated my country, my home, for what end? Perhaps in hopes of stealing state secrets, maybe terrorizing my people or assassinating one of my many guest. I loathe to say; even to murder me. If not for my honorable Wakandan friend, I shutter to think of the countless scenarios that might have played out here tonight."

Pressing a button to activate the handheld device, Victor studied Wonder Woman's expression as the caramel skin warrior lying next to her tried to scream. Her body twisting, contorting and jerking as her flesh began to ripple. Each spasmodic wave causing her skin tone to turn a pale green as it tried to retain its hue. Her cleanly shaven head elongating as small ridges formed atop a long green skull. The alien, Martian Manhunter curled up on the floor fully exposed; chained, naked and gagged.

"J'onn, are you alright," Wonder Woman said, before turning to face T'Challa. "Before this night is finished, you will suffer, I swear it."

"My offering of consideration Victor," T'Challa said eyeing Wonder Woman. "As is the Amazonian; it's doubtful she will be capable of restraining herself."

"Worry not little king, we will restrain her," a deep primal voice said.

Turning, seeing the large meta-gorilla positioned on stage, Wonder Woman rose to her feet. Walking pass the hulking primate; Vandal Savage, Sebastian Shaw, Emma Frost and Poison Ivy stepped into the crowd. The sight of the five super villains causing everyone to back away.

Smiling, bearing enormous white fangs, "The only question is whether she will surrender quietly; or face the full might of, **The** **Legion of Doom**," Gorilla Grodd growled.

**To be continued (**_Batman vs Daredevil, Black Panther/Wonder Woman, The Young Titans and Iron Man_**) **


	3. Law of Attraction

**Prologue**

**Hell's Kitchen- 6:52pm: New York**

"You boys look thirsty," Matches Malone said. The well-built man placing a bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses on the table.

Dressed in a herringbone plaid suit wearing a striped shirt with no tie, Matches wore tinted sunglasses. The fair-haired man with a well-groomed mane and mustache chewing a match stick gently. Perplexed, the occupants of the corner table at Tootsies Bar and Grill, on Hell's Kitchen south side, eyed him and each other curiously. Clad in leather jackets, hoodies and blue jeans, the larger of the two hoodlums wore a docker hat. The two guidos seen nursing half consumed beers while mumbling and ignoring Matches. Both prone to checking their watches before glancing at the tavern door as they looked through him.

"I'm guess'n you two guys don't drink," Matches said.

"Fuck off, and take the whiskey with you," the smaller man said, a long scar seen running from his right eye to his chin.

"Damn Aldo, you're a hard man," his larger companion said chuckling.

"Apologies buddy; I was just try'n to be friendly," Matches said gathering up the shot glasses. "Just moved to The City, from Gotham is all."

"Do you know this guy Chugs, because I don't. Hell, he could be a cop or worse; a freaking mutant for all we know."

"The name's Matches…Matches Malone, and I ain't no mutant, benny!"

"Hold on there; you say your name's, Matches Malone," the larger man inquired grabbing the whiskey bottle. "Matches Malone; out of Jersey?"

"Yeah…North Jersey, what's it to ya; yous been there?"

Opening the bottle of whiskey, "Damn Aldo, this dude once rolled with the Joker's crew in Gotham," Chugs said, inviting Matches to sit down. "My cousin Vinny told me how he once beat down, The Batman."

"Bullshit, I ain't buying that," Aldo said, sizing up Matches.

Pulling out a chair, taking a seat, "Buy it or not, it's true," Matches said. "So, you're Vinny 'The Leech's', little cousin, huh? Well you're not so little. How's he been doing these days; still servin' that twelve-year bid."

"Yeah, after he was busted in Central City by the Flash, they gave him four more years for a botched escape attempt. My aunt says he might get out a few years early, on account of good behavior. Hey, you ever hear from The Joker? Boy, now that's a special kind of crazy."

"The last time I saw…"

"Screw that; you're going to tell me how you beat, The Bat," Aldo interrupted, filling everyone's shot glass.

"Right, let's see; it was New Year's Eve and the 'J-man'; that's the Joker, was feelin' nostalgic…"

**Law of Attraction**

**Manhattan Criminal Court-10:15am: The Tombs**

Susan Toliver was smiling; Matthew Murdock could feel it. The beautiful African American district attorney, thought to be a shoo-in for the deputy mayor appointment, excited. Her heart rate racing as she adjusted her glasses on her face and sighed softly.

_You're pleased with yourself, aren't you Susan, _Matt thought;hearing the prosecuting attorney finishing with her star witness. _She believes, she's won already._

Taking her place in the lead chair of a three-man prosecution team, their overall demeanor was one of satisfaction. The prosecution's case, for all intents and purposes, a slam dunk.

"Mr. Murdock, I'm assuming you'll be cross-examining the witness," the judge said.

Standing, sighing, dropping his head for dramatic effect, Matt tapped his cane on the floor. The act meant to wake up the elderly woman in row three of the jury box. Bored and hungry, twelve of the sixteen jurors were merely waiting to conclude the trial before reconvening on a federal homicide case. Each one Matt was sure had already passed judgement on his client; their minds made up. A reformed small-time wheelman, drug dealer and thief, Kelvin Jones was on trial for double murder in the first degree. The case involving an apparent drug deal gone wrong. Arrested and charged for murder on the flimsiest of evidence; the word of an eye witness, Kelvin was looking at life. The seventeen-year-old African American male, positioned behind Matt, on the verge of a panic attack.

"Mr. Lincoln you don't deny being at the Brightway Motel on 10th Avenue during the night in question," Matt said, rounding the defense table with the use of his cane.

"Nah, but I didn't shoot nobody," Lonnie Thompson Lincoln said, his heartbeat and breathing steady. "I ain't never held a gun a day in my life; they scare me."

"You're a criminal Mr. Lincoln, why would a gun scare you," Matt replied, hearing four of the jurors sit up in their chairs.

"Objection," Susan Toliver said, standing behind the prosecutor's table. "The witness is a respectable businessman in the city and he's not on trial here, Mr. Jones is."

"Up held," the judge said. "Mr. Murdock, you'll refrain from attacking Mr. Lincoln, he's not a hostile witness."

"I apologize your honor, and withdraw the question. Mr. Lincoln, you testified to hearing gun shots and seeing my client that night. Could you explain why you were at the motel and exactly what happened once more?"

The owner of several carwash stations throughout the city, Lonnie Lincoln was a local fixture and Harlem businessman, so it would seem. Expected of being a low-level criminal by law enforcement, he'd never been caught in the act of a crime. His record strangely spotless given the fact he was considered a feared man in Harlem; Lonnie never receiving so much as a parking ticket in his sixteen years of driving. Often affiliated with seedy individuals and small-time hoods during the course of doing business, the NYPD believed him relatively harmless. The Daredevil being fully aware of his connection to the Kingpin. A professional cleaner and hitman, Lincoln was known in the underworld as, **Tombstone**. The 6'4" African American albino with pale pink eyes, short sponge twist platinum blond hair and matching goatee, thought to be among the best in his criminal profession.

"Like I said, I'm a single man with various lady friends," Lincoln was saying. "Some of them not as single as others, if you understand my meaning? On that night, I was meeting up with one of my aforementioned friends; when I saw, Mr. Jones entering room twenty-two on the second floor of the establishment called Brightway. Before I could make it into the front office, I hear two gunshots followed by the defendant running out the room and down the block."

"Why are you so sure it was my client, Mr. Lincoln," Matt said. "Did you get a good look at him?"

"Good enough, we locked eyes…just before he bolted."

Hearing the slight tension in Lincoln's voice and the clinching of his jaw, Matt hesitated. The emotional reaction almost unnoticed, devoid of any increase in heart rate or rush of blood through arteries and veins. Only shallow breathing and an intake of air to punctuate Lincoln's anger.

_He's livid, but is somehow controlling his physical response to the emotion,_ Matt thought impressed. _Whatever happened that night, Tombstone wasn't happy about it._

As a juvenile, Kelvin was an ex-gangbanger and drug dealer. After leaving that life behind him, he began working at one of Lincoln's carwash stations. The mere sight of his former employer causing him to react with constant fidgeting and a rapid heartbeat that threatened to drown out every sound inside the courtroom. Unwilling to discuss the events of that night, beyond denying that he killed the two men, the teenager was utterly terrified. The young man offering little in way of a defense for himself.

"You locked eyes," Matt said stumbling, reaching for the defense table to keep his balance.

"Counselor, are you okay," the judge said. The concern in his voice registering in a unified gasp throughout the courtroom.

"I'm fine your honor," Matt replied quickly, the action meant to draw sympathy and the attention of the jury. "Mr. Lincoln, how far away were you from my client when you, 'looked him in the eye'?"

"About fifteen feet, give or take. The street lights outside the motel and over the rooms helped, I guess."

Running a finger over notes handed to him by his friend, law partner and co-chair, Foggy Nelson, "Yet in your police report you couldn't describe Mr. Jones, nor his clothing or weapon," Matt said. "The facial description you gave the police was also extremely vague. For someone who witnessed so much Mr. Lincoln, you appear to have seen very little."

"Objection, Susan Toliver said again. "Mr. Murdock is badgering the witness."

_He's a killer Susan, _Matt thought._ The man's heart rate hasn't spiked since he's been sworn in._

"Overruled," the judge replied. "Let's give Mr. Murdock some leeway to cross-examine, Prosecutor."

"Did you know the defendant?"

"Kelvin use to work for me at one of my carwash stations in Harlem. That's until he was fired for not showing up to work a few months back."

A fugitive from a city-wide man hunt, Kelvin was apprehended in an abandon building in Hoboken three weeks after the shootings. Matt conducting his own investigation as the Daredevil; concluded he'd been living in those condition for over six months. Taking the case pro bono, Matt's interest was centered around Lincoln and his reason for framing the homeless teen.

"Yet you never told the police you knew him personally, why? The reason my client is a suspect today is due to an anonymous tip and you picking him out of mugshots and a lineup. No weapon was found and there's no forensic evidence that he was ever there."

"Objection, your honor. Mr. Murdock is leading the witness. Mr. Lincoln has no way of knowing who placed that call to the NYPD criminal hotline."

"Up held; Mr. Murdock, rephrase the question please, and allow the witness to answer."

"Yes, apologies your honor. Mr. Lincoln, why did you pick the defendant from the police lineup?"

"Because I saw him running from the scene of the crime."

"But you never saw my client commit said crime, correct?"

"Nah, I wasn't standing next to him."

"Would it surprise you to know, that on the night in question; that five African American males fitting your initial description was apprehended that night?"

"Nope, doesn't surprise me really, they all look alike anyway," Lincoln said.

"What…would you please repeat that, Mr. Lincoln?"

"I said it didn't surprise me, all of them look the same to me," Lincoln said again.

With a deafening roar that began as a whisper, the courtroom erupted. The request of the prosecuting attorney to approach the bench, the mumbling of the jury, the clamor of the gallery, the clicking of news cameras and the calling to order by the judge; doing little too rattle Lonnie Lincoln. The milk white man sitting next to the judge not registering the slightest elevation in blood pressure, body temperature, heart rate or breathing.

"Bailiffs, take Mr. Jones back into custody and clear the courtroom now," the judge ordered while banging his gavel.

"Am I done here," Lonnie said unfazed, putting on tinted shades.

"Yes Mr. Lincoln, quite done," the judge barked.

Picking up papers, "What in the hell just happened," Foggy Nelson whispered. "Did he just throw this case? Did you use a 'Jedi-mind-trick' on the guy or something?"

"I had nothing to do with it," Matt said. "Perhaps a crisis of conscience or guilt; who can say how the human mind works. Regardless, our client will be a free man because of it."

_And a dead one_, Matt thought, assisting Foggy with clearing their documents. _Lincoln must have wanted Jones found and used the NYPD and justice system to do it. By implicating Jones in a double homicide; both murders Tombstone no doubt committed, he brought the full weight of the NYPD down on the teen's head._

"I would congratulate you two, but this circus is just getting started," Susan Toliver said sighing heavily. "I'll have all charges dropped and your client released by tomorrow afternoon. Without Lincoln, our case won't hold up. And given what he just said on the witness stand, I'd be a fool to try and build anything on what he gave me. We can file the motion to dismiss first thing in the morning, if you agree?"

"I'll handle it Matt," Foggy said.

"I just want to get clear of this fiasco as soon as possible," Susan said, glancing at the reporters waiting outside the courtroom. "The news outlets are going to have an Oprah moment behind this one."

"Well, at least they can't say you're racist" Foggy said.

Feeling Susan's gaze, "I'm going to let that slide today Nelson," she moaned, shaking her head, walking away.

"What did I say? Hey, we going to celebrate our victory tonight or what?"

"Not tonight Foggy, give me a rain check. I've got a date with a tall blond."

Patting Matt on the shoulder, "You just be sure to wear protection and play safe," Foggy replied.

Listening as reporters tried to question Lonnie Lincoln, "Always Foggy, always," Matt said.

**Hell Kitchen-1:23pm: New York**

An autumn wind produced a chill as the sun hung over New York City. A crisp breeze blown over the Hudson River reaching 54th Street as trash and debris followed. The scent of the river and city rising up the side of a newly renovated brownstone located at 357 West. Climbing stairs to the top of the building, Salvador 'Chugs' Romano began to sneeze uncontrollably. His allergies forcing him to stumble as he reached the rooftop garden. Depositing a cumbersome potted plant onto the deck of the patio, the big man wiped his hands on his jeans; all the while bent over waiting for Aldo and Matches to bring up another one. The two smaller men actually having an easier go of it than he expected.

"Thought you two would be winded hauling that thing up here," Chugs said sneezing.

Setting the potted plant down, "This guy is stronger than he looks," Aldo said. "You must work out or somethin', you're not even sweating. I mean truth be told; I actually stopped helping after the fourth floor."

"You don't think I didn't notice you bastard," Matches said laughing. "I got the burn in my legs and arms to prove it. Whoa, this place is posh, I'll give it that. Bet it cost a few nickels too?"

"The boss has expensive taste," Aldo said.

"He pays well too," Chugs added, blowing his nose into a handkerchief. "This here is just one of the digs he owns in The City. Wait till you see his penthouse in Manhattan, now that's how a man's supposed to live."

"Is he some kind of gardener," Matches inquired, examining the flora crowding the patio. A large variation of flowers and vines also seen through a glass enclosure built along the eastern wall. "What's with all the freakin' plants?"

"Well about that; his new lady friend is really into shrubs, so he keeps them around," Chugs said.

"Some guys have all the luck, right," Matches said. "The fancy houses, big cars and a different woman every night. Must be easy to get'em with a pad like this?"

"That was the boss until this latest one. Think he was seeing her on the sly for awhile, but not anymore. She shows up and you swear he's a totally different guy. The lady has him wrapped around her little finger. Believe it or not; she's even giving us orders too…like we freakin' work for the broad!"

"She must be somethin' to look at huh," Matches said. "I mean to have a guy like your boss fall'n all over himself."

"She's gorgeous, and I'm talkin', with all caps," Aldo said. "Hair like fire this one. And don't mention those legs; wow, they stretch for days, like ivory pillars for sure."

"If the boss ever heard you talkin' like that Aldo, he'd kill you," Chugs said.

"Then he better never hear me, you smuck!"

**Soho-4:27pm: New York**

With the flashing of cameras, Lonnie Lincoln adjusted his shades and rolled up the window of his 1970 Buick GS Stage One. The white on white muscle car coming to a stop outside Oliverios, a Soho restaurant on the corner of Grand and Broadway. Closed for renovations, the property was somewhat empty. A team of contractors on a ridgid deadline taking little notice of the mayhem outside. Exiting his car dogged by paparazzi, Lonnie avoided and ignored all questioning. The pale skin businessman disappearing inside the establishment; leaving the photographers seeking entrance at the door. Greeted by two bodyguards in dark suits, he was led to an office at the rear of the restaurant. The restaurant manager vacating the modest office at the request of the man waiting inside.

"Aren't you the popular boy in school, Lonnie." Mr. Sweet said, browsing over a large book. The short slender man with large glasses wearing a very expensive blue suit and bluish-gray tie. "In your line of work, I'd have thought it a liability?"

"You have to work the angles and gain the advantage," Lonnie said smiling.

Putting the book back onto a bookshelf, "It's this flawed thinking that has brought me here today," Mr. Sweet said. "Your anonymity was your greatest asset, but now it's squandered. That stunt in the courtroom was ill-advised, reckless and thoughtless. I needn't tell you what's at stake and to whom you answer."

"No, you don't, I'm fully aware who's running things," Lonnie said.

"I suppose the boy couldn't be left to rot in prison with what he knows," Mr. Sweet said. "But you shall deal with him expeditiously…one way or the other. If you will find this too difficult, a suitable replacement will be found."

"This is my business and I'll handle it."

"The boss will be pleased to hear it. Much has been put into your hands, don't allow it to fall through your fingers."

"Again, this is my business and I'll handle it. The boss should be made to understand that."

"What he understands; are failures and success; the former punished and the latter rewarded."

**East Harlem-10:49pm: Daredevil**

One of the roughest neighborhoods in New York, Spanish Harlem wore the title like a badge of honor. Considered a blight on the city, El Barrio boasted the highest crime rates in Manhattan. Home to many of the city's most violent gangs, its renewal was thought long overdue. The territory controlled by the Maggia Family. A powerful crime syndicate trafficking in drugs, extortion, murder and flesh. The only true threat to their power and influence was the businessman and multibillionaire, Wilson Fisk, the Kingpin. The man buying up various properties in the area as of late. His latest acquisition and contribution, **The Platinum City Nightclub**.

Outside New York's latest hotspot, music poured out like expensive liquor. Every intoxicating rhythm and beat of rap music causing many to dance before ever entering. The numerous sport cars, luxury sedans and SUVs filling the crowded parking lot while impeding the flow of normal traffic. The NYPD redirecting all other vehicles away from Park Avenue and 125th Street as the night took hold.

Pushing passed a slight headache, Daredevil watched the scene unfolding more than two hundred yards away. The overwhelming sensory input of the surrounding ambient noise and the nightclub, creating some discomfort. Muffling the sound, 'The Man Without Fear', wore fitted earplugs. The small devices allowing the crimson vigilante to reduce the audible stimuli effect to some degree. The suppressed echoes of reverberating sound painting the world in a dull gray haze. Slowly, moving along the ledge of the building, Daredevil sifted through random conversations and useless chatter. Aligning himself like an antenna, he tried to find the one perfect frequency among thousands.

_This won't work_, Matt thought. _Too many people, too many layers. I need to get closer, if I ever hope to find Tombstone_.

Peeling back his glove, "Dial Foggy," he spoke into his wrist cellphone.

Ringing several times, "Hey Matthew, what's up," Foggy said, the music in the background coming from the Platinum Club. "How's your date going, buddy?"

"Stood me up," Matt said. "Wanted to cash in that rain check, seeing the night's still young."

"Hey, Pam and I are in line outside that new club in East Harlem! I know it's not your scene; the rap music and all, but you should join us! She could call up one of her friends and we'll make a night of it!"

"You read my mind, good sir."

"Yes, Mattie is joining us," Foggy told Pam. "Call up your friend, the hot one; only the best for my pal! Mattie, have your Uber driver drop you off at the front of the club and call me when you arrive! We all should be able to get in right away due to your handicap! If not, we'll tell them we're lawyers and threaten to sue!"

"Will do; I'll see you soon."

Retrieving a duffle bag hidden atop a roof some distance away, Daredevil changed his clothes. Dressing in the shirt, slacks and dress shoes concealed in an air-tight pouch, he placed his costume inside. Matt waiting ten minutes before making his way over to a Gas Station across the street and calling an Uber. Directed to the nightclub, the driver dropped him off a hundred yards away. The traffic much too heavy to allow him to get closer otherwise. Offering to assist Matt, being refused, the driver was given a twenty-dollar tip for his trouble. The man offering Matt his personal business card should he need him again.

Outside the club, all the countless patrons lined up to wait for access, were content to do so. Their excitement almost palatable as their spectral shadows pulsed with every heartbeat. The surrounding two blocks lit up like Christmas in Time Square in Matt's mind's eye. Matt forcibly muting all sounds and dampening his focus mentally while approaching Foggy and his date. Smiling at the fact he actually needed to use his cane.

"What the hell Mattie," Foggy said. "I told you to get dropped off at the front door and call me!"

"I'm fine, besides; you never said this place was so packed! Sweet Christmas, it's crowded!"

"My friend Elora is already inside," Pam said.

"Hot name, right buddy," Foggy added. "You'll love her, she's got a great personality and her father's a banker from Central City!"

_Translation; you can't see her anyway and our law firm, really could benefit from the connections_, Matt thought.

Patting Matt on the back, signaling for a bouncer, Foggy explained Matt's condition and their occupation. Given access immediately, they were escorted inside the club and given a table on the second floor overlooking the lower level. Making a quick phone call consisting of shouts, Pam informed her friend of their location.

"Hey, Elora, meet Matthew Murdock," Pam shouted.

Standing, reaching for her hand clumsily, "Nice to meet you," Matt screamed over the music.

Taking his hand, Matt couldn't hear all of what Elora was saying, forced to use his earplugs and block out most sound. Foggy once again explaining his condition. Fit, Elora's resonance echo revealed an athletic female surrounded by countless others throughout the club. Her skin and its elasticity, telling him she was a few years younger than him. Weeding through competing smells, Matt had found the one he'd been searching for after entering the club. The rare mix of very expensive Jamaican oils, ganja and adamantium.

"Excuse me ladies, I need to use the rest room," Matt said. "You mind if I borrow Foggy for a minute?"

Locking onto Lincoln's scent, Matt used Foggy as a human shield while maneuvering through the club toward the rest rooms. Following the scent into a short narrow hall leading to a flight of stairs, Matt stopped to zero in on his target. Posted at the bottom of the stairs two couples were viewed making out. Matt forcing Foggy to continue up the stairs and toward a door marked, 'Security'.

"Where the hell, are we going," Foggy said.

Ignoring his friend's protest; that they were passing the rest rooms and proceeding into a restricted area. The scent of marijuana became stronger the closer they came to the club's security station. Matt removing his earplugs and pulling out his cellphone.

"I need to make a call," he said, holding the phone up to his face.

"I don't," Foggy said leaving, headed back to the men's bathroom.

Concentrating, "We got a full house tonight," Matt heard a man saying. "At thirty-five a head on the door and fifteen to twenty per drink."

"Diddy's in the VIP with his team," another man said. "He wants you to comp him and James Harden a few bottles of Ciroc."

"Give them five bottles of that shit, and a bottle of Cristal Champagne, on me," Lonnie said. "Make sure they know they owe me. I heard someone say the blind defense lawyer is here; send that muthafucka two bottles of Cristal. If I ever catch a case, I want that blind dude defending me, he's good."

"We picking the kid up tomorrow?"

"What do you think," Lonnie said. "He'll find his way back home; the streets are too hot for that problem. Let him cool off a bit."

"I thought the boss wanted him taken care of?"

"He will be, but on my time…my way."

"The press keeps calling, looking for a statement; they're not letting up."

Laughing, "You think those fools really care about one black kid falsely accused of a crime," Lincoln said. "Their attention span ain't long enough to sweat me out, so screw'em. "Shit, Bloomberg made a career locking us up. Maybe I should run for mayor next time and get paid to do it."

"Mr. Fisk wouldn't like..."

Hearing Lincoln grab the man by the throat, "Did I ask what he thought, fool," he said. "Don't ever presume to tell me what, 'he, may…or may not like! You talk like I'm not the one paying you; get your ass out of my sight!"

Hearing the man opening the door, Matt brought the cellphone up to his face. The extremely large African-American man eyeing him while massaging his throat vigorously.

"Leave, now," he said.

Returning to the table with Foggy, receiving two bottles of Cristal, Matt got to know Elora much better.

**Hudson River-5:32am: New York**

Aldo Betto hated the water. The brutish man of an average height, retching over the side of the boat. Anchored in the Hudson River, a two-hundred-foot, eighty million-dollar Amels Yacht swayed gently beneath him. Chugs chuckling softly, watching him while eating a New York style bacon, egg and cheese sandwich. The smell filling the morning air as the sun rose over The City in the distance. Flirting with a crewmember, Matches was typing the cute brunette's information into his phone. The woman's number just one of four he'd collected while aboard ship.

"That Matches really has a way with the ladies," Chugs said.

"We done here or what," Aldo said, trying to catch his breath.

"The boss wanted all arrangements checked one by one for the party tomorrow night," Chugs said still laughing. "We best make sure everything is in order and completed."

"When do I get to meet the boss," Matches said. "I could really use the bread if he's looking to put me onto some work."

"About that, me and Chugs put in a good word for you," Aldo said. "Mr. Sweet, the boss's assistant; he'll be looking into it for sure. He's a weird one, but decent guy and very smart."

"Don't worry, we left out the bit about you beating, The Bat," Chugs said. "No need to make him think you're crazy."

"Thanks, you bum."

"Malone, check the guest list against the one the boss gave me," Aldo said handing the paper to Matches. "If a name doesn't jive, you let me know. Chugs, you go talk to that security guy, make sure he's on top of things."

Taking the list, Matches did as he was instructed. Browsing over the twenty or so names on the list, most belonging to prominent businessmen, movie stars and city officials, he okayed it. The names of Senator Robert Kelly, Catherine Moon and Congressmen Henry Stanmore among the only politicians.

"Ya'gotta be kidding me," Matches said. "All these people are famous."

Slumped over the rail of the ship, "Yeah, the boss is throwing a private fundraiser for some political joe," Aldo said. "All hush-hush; no one's supposed to know about it. It's the kind of suit and tie thing these rich guys like to attend; lets them be seen by other bigwigs. Is everything else square?"

"Like rain my friend," Matches said. "Guess the boss-lady will be there too, huh?"

"I would think so; the party was her idea."

**New York 6:21am-3:43pm: Kelvin Jones**

Waking up early, Kelvin Jones walked the yard of Rikers Island accompanied by two armed guards. Given his morning meal, he only drank the orange juice and ate a slice of toast. His stomach still queasy from the night before; the slender teen unable to sleep. The thought of returning to the streets of New York plagued him. It was very unlikely he would be able to avoid Lonnie Lincoln for to much longer. Processed out of the system before noon, he was sold a metrocard and released from the correctional institution. The teen riding a bus across Rikers Island Bridge; taking the Q101 into Manhattan before wondering the better part of the day. The burner phone placed in his pocket, he assumed by one of the prison guards, felt vibrating. Ignoring it, unable to shake the feeling he was being followed, he hopped the bus to Central Park.

Surrounded by people, Kelvin was outwardly distressed. The teen looking over his shoulder religiously as he walked toward North Meadow. The forty-acre woodland area located at the northwest corner of Central Park. The wide pathways near the main trail at102nd Street teeming with life. Still dressed in the shirt and slacks he wore in court the day before; he closed a gray windbreaker around himself. The drab item of clothing contrasting with the bright orange, red and yellow hickory and sugar maple leaves rustling in the trees overhead. The cool autumn afternoon drawing joggers, strolling couples, pet walkers, sightseers and vendors to the world- famous park. Stopping to take a seat on a bench as he started mumbling to himself, Kelvin retrieved the burner phone from his pocket. Staring at the device for several minutes, he slowly dialed a number.

"You found my present," a man said over the cellphone. "Guess you're done running lil'homie? Should've worked this out like men; came to an understanding."

Kneeling to tie his shoe, Matt blocked out all the competing noises. His focus targeting Kelvin, whom he'd been following since his release from jail. Positioned more than thirty feet away, he was listening to his conversation with Lonnie Thompson Lincoln. The hitman located at one of his carwashes according to background noises over the phone.

"Tell me what to do," Kelvin said. "I can't live like this anymore, Lonnie. I just want to go back to the way things was before."

"Shut up! Don't start cryin' now; this is all on you! I've got the goddamn district attorney on my back and the press snooping around in my business; cuz you wanted to play hide and seek and force me into court. But I'm going to help you out of this. So, say thank you, and be quiet."

"Thank you, I won't screw up again. You just tell…"

"Tell me you're not stupid enough to finish that sentence over the phone? Believe me, I'll find a way to square us. Be at the building on 110th and 3rd around 7:45 tonight. Don't make me find you again, Kelvin."

**Harlem-7:20pm: Daredevil**

Leaping the ledge of a building, the Daredevil dropped two stories. The crimson vigilante rolling to his feet as he ran to a stop overlooking 110th Street. The low level five story buildings of the surrounding area all but adjacent, making traveling above the city convenient. Quiet, the night air was relatively still. The scent on the breeze reminding Matt he was home, that he was in New York. Allowing himself to access the full range of his abilities, reminded him he was alive. The quick pounding of various sounds and heartbeats manifesting as ghostly shadows all around him as they flashed and pulsated. The living silhouettes sonically viewed moving above and below locked behind dark prisons consisting of brick and mortar, wood and metal.

_So, Kelvin was working for Lincoln the whole time, _Matt thought. _Must have started selling drugs again, perhaps doing a lot more. Got in way over his head this time. Could have seen something he wasn't supposed to while in Lincoln's employ. Something Lincoln needs to know he hasn't told anyone else about. Obviously not his lawyers, seeing he hasn't been detained or arrested yet. Can't be anything good to trigger a man like that. He almost lost it just thinking about it in court. I need to speak to Kelvin, but I have to do it as, The Daredevil._

Turning off its lights, slowly pulling up in front of what looked to be an abandoned building, a large black Land Rover parked less than a block away. The three occupants inside vaguely heard discussing orders and a woman. Daredevil running parallel to their position from above, drawing closer to ascertain the threat.

_You've got enough on your plate tonight, Matthew_, Matt thought to himself. _You_ _can't save the world, you're not Superman._

Taking a drag on a cigarette, "This blows bad," a man with a New York Italian accent said.

"What gives, I thought yous were headed Downtown to see the boss," a man with a North Jersey inflection inquired.

"Yeah right, but first he wanted that we should do a favor for a friend," another male Italian New Yorker replied. "No doubt his lady wants a slice from some restaurant in Harlem. Go figure, he sends us to get it. He'll be texting with details shortly, so sit tight and keep your panties on."

Hearing the heartbeat of Kelvin Jones approaching, Daredevil could view the radio waves emanating from his pocket. The burner phone he carried tagged with a small, but very powerful tracking device. Opening the vehicle door, one of the three men exited the SUV, and begun walking toward Kelvin.

"Hey, are you Kelvin Jones," the Italian New Yorker said. "The names Aldo, Mr. Lincoln wants that you should come with me."

"I don't know, man; Lincoln really send you?"

"What, you think I just walk up to every black kid in Harlem asking, 'are you Kelvin Jones', Einstein? You coming or not, cuz personally, I don't like this neighborhood."

Following the guido from a distance, Kelvin wanted to run. His body posture and gaunt frame angled away from the man, placing himself off to the left of him. Opening the vehicle's passenger side door, a much, much larger Italian got out of the car. Kelvin seeing the man and freezing in his tracks.

"Hell to the nah, I'm good dude," he said backing away. "You tell Lincoln, I'll get at him another time. I'll call him and we can work something out later."

"That ain't an option, kid," Aldo said reaching for a weapon placed at the small of his back.

Leveling a taser at Kelvin, the thug fired the device. The two prongs and cords instantly diverted and entangled in a long white titanium baton. Like a wrecking ball Daredevil rammed into the criminal sending him flying into a store front news stand. Rushing in, he quickly delivered several jabs in quick succession. The attack removing one of three opponents from the fray instantly.

Charging in, the largest of the three men was carrying a homemade blackjack. The short metal club wrapped in leather and electric-tape being rotated in a tight circle. Swinging it, the big man overestimated the vigilante's speed, attacking to soon. His momentum carrying him passed the mark aligning his jaw with the hero's fist. Preforming a series of strikes and kicks to the gut and knees, Daredevil brought the man to the ground swiftly. Lining up his jaw once more; the Devil was braced for a finishing shot.

Surprisingly the third man was on him unexpectedly. The criminal's speed and movements indicating he'd had some training. Spinning, bringing a knee up into the man's gut, Daredevil was caught off guard to feel it brushed aside. The ensuing uppercut staggering him back as he spun away from a straight right aimed for his head.

"Get Aldo on his feet and go after the kid," the third thug with a Jersey accent said, circling Daredevil. "I'll handle this guy."

"But that's the freakin', Daredevil," the big thug said.

"Yeah, but he ain't, The Bat!"

Glancing at the biggest man assisting Aldo, "The boy is with me, you harm him in anyway, you answer…"

Side stepping another jab followed by a step-in-left-cross, Daredevil warded off several snapping jabs meant to separate him and the much larger man. The Jersey thug, angling between them as the Italian carried his partner to the SUV.

_Who the hell trained this guy, _Matt thought, hoping there were no more like him. _His fighting style is a __bastardized__ mashup of five different techniques. All centered around American and Muay Thai boxing. _

"You truly think you can beat me," Daredevil said, hearing the man's pulse and heart barely racing.

"Let's see."

Rushing in as Daredevil reached for his baton the thug penned it to the ground with a foot and pushed him away. Driving a knee toward Daredevil's face, he then backed him off, kicking the weapon aside.

"Really, now how fair would that be, benny," the thug said.

Pulling off, screeching its tires, the Land Rover was in pursuit of Kelvin. The large Italian behind the wheel looking on smiling as Daredevil sought to maneuver around his companion. Attacking the man with a flurry of feints and kicks, forcing him to cover up, Daredevil had planned to pursue the vehicle. Grabbing the crimson vigilante's arm, the thug drew him in close, locking him up.

"I know your secret," he whispered, triggering a device that dropped Daredevil to his knees and made every dog within two-hundred-yards howl.

**Batman-8:27pm**

Revealing his iconic costume as he stripped, Batman appeared to be little more than a living shadow while leaping from building to building. Descending the stairs of a fire escape leading into an alley behind two apartment complexes, he summoned his car. Watching the twice black all tinted, Porsche Panamera Turbo S come to a stop near the alley, Batman entered the car and sped away.

Shedding the disguise of Matches Malone completely, pulling down his cowl, the thought of pursuing Kelvin Jones had crossed the Dark Knight's mind. The boy's safety of paramount concern given the caliber of adversaries arrayed against him. The files on Lonnie Thompson Lincoln, forcing the Detective to conclude Kelvin's life was in mortal danger. The text message gleaned from Aldo's cellphone, giving him the location of where they'd take the teen; if they indeed had him.

"Alfred, give me an update," Batman said making his way across town.

"All is well, Sir," Alfred said. "Master Dick, has performed admirably in your absence. As for Master Damian, he seems to thrive no matter the situation. A very remarkable and capable young man, you'd be proud, Sir. How fairs your investigation, Master Bruce?"

"A lot of moving pieces here, Alfred. I'll need you to pull up everything you can on a juvenile named, Kelvin Jones. He's an African-American male living in Harlem, New York. Highlight any personal or indirect affiliation to Wilson Fisk."

"At once sir, I'll contact you with any prevalent information as soon as possible."

"As of now Alfred, we go silent. Our friend is very sensitive to all forms of audible communication."

_Clark needed to be removed,_ Batman thought, turning onto 1st Avenue._ Perhaps he was considered too powerful or couldn't be controlled by this woman using Kingpin. It wouldn't be the first time someone sought to subvert Clark's will, in hopes of manipulating his power. But why use Fisk at all? Anyone attempting to acquire and enslave Clark, would find little need for Fisk after the success of the abduction…unless._

**Roosevelt Island-10:36pm: New York**

Seated next to Chugs, Kelvin thought about leaping out of the SUV countless times. The vehicle moving quickly over the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge in route to Roosevelt Island. An Island enclave directly between Manhattan and Queens, RI rose up from the center of the East River like the angry red scar on Aldo's face. Kelvin noticing several lacerations covering the faces of both kidnappers.

"Who beat your ass, man? They did a hell of a job, real talk."

"You want that we should do the same to you," Aldo said. "A good guy, might've given his life tonight because of you, ya lil'shit! So, shut up and keep your mouth closed or Chugs will do it for you!"

Paying a toll, driving along the I-278 West exit in silence, they drove for a few more miles before coming to Main Street. Approaching midnight, the Island seemed almost deserted as few vehicles were seen on the roads. Many of the public housing buildings aligning the street lit as the ten story residential complexes glowed in the distance. Driving the length of the two-mile Island, Kelvin was aware of where they were headed, visiting the Franklin D. Roosevelt Four Freedoms Park with Lonnie numerous times.

**Batman & Daredevil-11:42pm**

Perched atop a building three hundred yards away, Batman waited. Through high powered bat-shaped binoculars, he studied the approaching Land Rover. The weighted SUV entering the park slowly with lights turned off. Stopping in front of the Renwick Ruins, a national historical site famous for being the first smallpox hospital in the United States, the vehicle shut off.

"We can finish our sparring session later," Batman said, never taking his eyes off the Land Rover.

"I thought you had a rule about dropping in uninvited," Daredevil said, approaching the Gotham vigilante.

"If the Kitchen's your playground; you may want to inform **Frank Castle** and **Jessica Jones**. I'll allow you to assist me, but we do things my way, no questions asked. You'll wait for my signal and move when I tell you to."

"What the…hold on," Matt said, watching Batman preparing to leave.

"They're expecting you; it's your City after all. So, you get to play the part of hero. Force them to show their hand, and expect the unexpected. There's more going on here than you're aware of."

"You could fill me in," Daredevil said.

"There's no time, she's here."

Pulling Kelvin out of the Land Rover, Aldo and Chugs threw him on the ground. The two thugs brandishing handguns held down at their sides while standing over the boy. Parking behind the first SUV, a second vehicle came to a stop. The driver causing the utility van to tilt as he stepped out. Wearing black slacks, a navy-blue tactical turtleneck sweater and black gloves, Wilson Fisk studied the scene. The large man expressionless as he looked on.

"Boss, what are you doing here," Aldo said. "We thought we were meeting Tombstone?"

"Take the boy inside," a female voice ordered.

Exiting the passenger side of the SUV, the beautiful redhead dressed in an outfit matching Fisk got out. Her long red hair tied away from her face and braided down her back.

"You heard Lillian, Take the boy inside," Fisk said glaring at the two thugs.

"Right away boss," Aldo and Chugs said in unison.

Hauled into the Smallpox Hospital, Kelvin tried to protest to no avail. Chugs snatching the teen up like a fish in the paws of a bear. Following them inside the Gothic Revival styled building; Aldo, Fisk and the woman entered. The front entrance of the National Landmark, leading to a porch that opened on three sides. The ancient three story building itself, constructed with nine U shaped bay like compartments. The outer facing walls that made up the structure finished in a granite veneer. Its central block design crowned with a hipped-roof having a gentle slope enclosed with parapets on all sides. The entire structure resembling a small weather-beaten castle.

"Boss, do you think it's wise to be here," Aldo said. "This ain't something you usually…you know, get involved in."

"That's not your concern," the redhead said. "What we choose to do is our business. Just take the boy into the basement and be quiet. Good help is so hard to find, don't you agree Frisky?"

"Absolutely, my dear Lillian," Wilson Fisk said. "Get the boy into the basement and remain silent."

"Gotcha boss, sorry," Aldo said.

Opening a hidden entrance built into the floor of the building, Aldo used his cellphone to light the way. Descending a flight of stairs leading into what looked to be an ancient catacomb, he lit several torches placed in sconces along the wall. The secret passageway and crematorium built beneath the hospital to dispose of the dead.

"Put the boy down, and give me your weapon," Lillian told Chugs.

Doing as he was ordered, Chugs put Kelvin down and handed the redhead his weapon. Restraining the boy as he fought to break free of his grasp, he held him in place.

"It doesn't have to be this way you know," Lillian said. "All you have to do is join us, and we could be one big happy family."

Squirming violently, "You're crazy bitch," Kelvin said.

"You need to watch your mouth boy," Tombstone said stepping out of the shadows. "I do all this for you and this is how you repay me? If I had a heart, it would be broken."

Drawing his gun, "What the hell is going on here," Aldo said, maneuvering away from Tombstone and the redhead.

Walking over to Lillian, Tombstone kissed her passionately. His hands groping her body as if prepared to take her in front of all present. Standing beside them watching with a smile, Wilson Fisk looked on enraptured.

Utterly perplexed, confused and dazed, "Boss…what's happening," Aldo and Chugs said in unison.

"Don't fret it boys, chunky butt likes to watch," Tombstone said slapping Fisk on the backside. "You see Kelvin, your reaction was normal; hate you had to see what you saw homie."

Leveling his weapon, Aldo fired at Tombstone. The trained killer dodging the projectiles as he darted away and then toward the hoodlum in a blur. Shocked at the man's inhuman speed, Aldo sought to fire a third time, his weapon aimed at center mass. Squeezing the trigger, he felt his wrist go limp. The weapon discharging as it bounced off the stone floor still in his hand. With a savage cry, Aldo fell back tripping. His eyes locked onto the glimmering pointed adamantium teeth of Tombstone; the man smiling a bloody platinum smile.

Releasing Kelvin, Chugs swung the boy into the professional killer. The man catching him and tossing him aside effortlessly.

Circling the much larger man, "Get Fisk out of here, baby," Tombstone told Lillian. "We can't lose our golden ticket."

Moving in to attack, Tombstone halted, the albino turning toward the stairs. Descending the stone staircase, backing down Lillian with his baton, Daredevil appeared. The crimson vigilante disarming her before moving her aside as Fisk simply watched. listening to all the vital signs of everyone within the chamber, Kelvin's heart rate was beating much as it did in court.

_He's not afraid, _Matt thought. _He's excited._

Seizing the opportunity while the killer was distracted, Chugs wrapped the pale man in a bear hug. The big man squeezing all the more seeing his friend trying to stop the bleeding from his wound. The thick squat man visibly drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Kelvin…are you…in or out," Tombstone coughed.

Racing down the stairs toward the large criminal thug, Daredevil halted hearing a visceral scream that filled the catacombs. Chugs shaking, seizing and writhing in pain as he released Tombstone. The man's internal organs shriveling up as his body began to decay, Daredevil viewing the thug's resonance echo dimming instantly. Smiling, Tombstone and the creature that had once been Kelvin, stood over the remains of the dead criminal. The slender milk white teen, with jaundice yellow eyes, heartbeat and body functions almost non-existent.

"Ain't that some freaky shit, Devil," Tombstone said smiling.

Stepping out of the shadows, "Expect the unexpected," Batman said, administering a pain and neuro inhibitor to Aldo's arm.

"What are you doing here," Lillian said. "How did you find me?"

Helping Aldo, "I wasn't looking, **Harley**," Batman said flatly. "But it's easy to see you've been keeping yourself busy. I take it, you and the Joker are no longer an item?"

"**Harley Quinn** is mine," Tombstone said. "The clown never appreciated her; the woman's a boss like me."

"You hear that Batsy, I got swagger!"

"Does Ivy know you're doubling for her and manufacturing a cheap version of her hypno-toxin? You lack her green thumb Harley; dead plants and cross strains aren't something she's known for."

"That stuff ain't cheap or easy to make," Harley said. "Thankfully, old Frisky was so inclined to foot the bill for all the essential ingredients. As for Ivy, we don't discuss her, right poppy?"

"That's right mamma, she left our little family. Luckily, we found a way to keep our golden goose laying fat golden eggs."

"How long will that last," Batman said. "Until you secretly transfer all of Fisk's money into offshore accounts…and kill him along with the guest aboard his yacht tomorrow night?"

"How in the…how'd you know about that," Tombstone said, Matt registering true fear in him for the first time.

"Is this why he needs Kelvin," Daredevil said. "The boy's his partner?"

"The boy is obviously a mutant like his father," Batman said. "That's the only reason Tombstone hasn't killed him."

"We don't kill family Batsy," Harley said. "When junior found daddy, Ivy, Frisky and mommy enjoying grown-up time; he didn't take it so well."

"Got himself locked up, thinking he could frustrate my plans," Tombstone said. "With Fisk's money and connections, wasn't a problem righting that wrong."

"Now we're one big happy family again," Harley said, edging toward Daredevil. "And the family that steals together, kills together!"

**Daredevil**

Dodging an immobilizing blow meant for the back of his neck, Daredevil side-stepped Harley's karate chop. Slamming an elbow into her face, he was surprised that she still stood. Even more so when the woman laughed and readjusted a broken nose.

"She enjoys the pain," Batman said, warding off an awkward strike from Kelvin. "Don't hold back, incapacitate her quickly."

With a nasally voice, "Don't go tell'n all my secrets Batsy," Harley Quinn said. "Frisky, help me kill the Devil and I'll give you a treat tonight."

**Batman**

Off balance, Kelvin reached for Batman as Tombstone maneuvered around them. The hired killer content to gauge and judge his sons fighting prowess in his mutant form. No doubt a formidable street fighter when in human guise, his inhuman speed and quickness was becoming a liability. The misjudgment of Batman's skill and reach in comparisons to his own, leaving the gangly teen open.

Moving towards them, "No, watch your footwor…" Tombstone had begun to say.

Pinning Kelvin's foot as he slid inside a slashing attack, the elongated fingers of the boy raking air, Batman spun around and behind him. Delivering dual fist blows to the solar plexus, followed by a head-butt to the back of the head, Batman shoved Kelvin at his father.

Throwing his son aside, "Cold ass move, my man," Tombstone said cracking his knuckles. "Saw that coming. My boy needs some work, I can admit it. Not my proudest moment, but I'll get'em there."

"Before we get started, who hired you and Ivy; and where's Superman?"

"I'm street Batman, we survive by eating rats, not becoming one," Tombstone said smiling.

**Daredevil**

Daredevil had only fought Wilson Fisk twice in all the time he'd been pursuing the crime lord. What most mistook as obesity was anything but. Deceptively quick and impressively strong, the man was an all-pro linebacker in a sumo wrestler's body.

Cleaving a chunk of rock from a support pillar, Fisk charged the crimson vigilante. Diving away, performing a somersault as he bounced his baton off the man's kneecap and rolled to catch it, Daredevil made note of everyone positioned in the chamber. Avoiding a large rock thrown by Harley, he bounced his baton of the female criminal's head. The woman staggering back, falling into a wall, all the while laughing insanely.

_Time to even the odds, _Matt thought, rushing the Kingpin.

**Batman**

Faster, quicker, stronger and viciously calm, Tombstone pressed every advantage no matter how minute.

_He's not giving me time to breathe, _Batman said. _Want allow me to think, to calculate and assess. _

Snapping at Batman's arms as they fought, Tombstone sought to distract him. Keeping the Gotham hero and urban legend off balance until he could break his guard or simply bite him. Redirecting his punches, mindful of the adamantium teeth of his adversary, Batman readjusted his fighting style. Centering his footwork in Taekwondo and Capoeira, he used open hand attacks to the face combined with swiping and focused leg assaults. Slowing Tombstone's advancement and putting distance between them as they traded blows, he regained the upper hand.

Slapped and back-handed, "You're a clever one, aren't you muthafucka," Tombstone said backing off. "Guess we do this the old fashion way!"

Charging Batman, taking him off his feet, Tombstone growled. Going limp allowing the pale killer to drive him back, Batman placed a knee into the man's groin as they fell. Grabbing Batman by the throat, Tombstone began to laugh.

"Homie, Harley spanks them harder than that, with her lil'baseball bat," he said, opening his mouth.

**Daredevil**

_She's certifiably insane, _Matt thought, dodging clubbing blows and debris.

Throwing rocks and debris at him, Harley was on her hands and knees searching for anything she could use to assault Daredevil with. Her laughter pinging and echoing throughout the underground labyrinth as the Devil guided Fisk along the eastern wall of the chamber. Running up the wall and leaping fallen rubble, utilizing parkour to evade Harley and Fisk, Daredevil dislodged most of the wall sconces. The falling dust and granite veneer extinguishing the torches that lit the catacombs.

**Batman**

Pressing his weight down, "Never tasted bat, I wonder if you taste like chicken," Tombstone said snapping at Batman's face as they grappled.

Repositioning his hips, turning them slightly, Batman waited. The light inside the chamber dimming suddenly. Sensitive to light, as a result of albinism and photophobia, many albinos avoided viewing most direct light sources unprotected. Allowing the passageway to go completely dark, grabbing Tombstone by the face, Batman triggered his cowl's optic lenses and strobes with a series of blinks. The intense debilitating flash of lights causing the albino killer to writhe back in pain. Shoving a palm thrust under his chin, Batman heard adamantium grind against itself. Tossing Tombstone off him as the man collapsed in a heap, the Dark knight flipped to his feet firing a miniature inoculation dart. The tiny needle lodging into the neck of Fisk as Daredevil evaded it.

Moving to confront Harley Quinn, "What do you know about Ivy and Superman," Batman said, watching the female criminal groping in the dark.

"Awww, are they dating now Batsy," Harley said. "Go figure."

"Fisk and Aldo will need to be hospitalized as soon as possible," Batman said preparing to depart. "I've summoned the NYPD to this location, they'll be arriving shortly. I suggest, you restrain Harley before that happens."

"That's it, you're done? What about the plot to assassinate the guest aboard Fisk's yacht?"

"Contact Donovan Marsh or Luke Cage," Batman said ascending the stairs. "It's your city; protect it yourselves. Aldo is a good man at heart, if he can be rehabilitated...it might be worthwhile, Matthew."

**To be continued** (_Black Panther/Wonder Woman_)


End file.
